The Fist of Stone
by LeConteurBlackbird
Summary: Year 3408 of the Second Age, Middle Earth. Harley, a young French girl, is "chosen" to make the journey between Eä and Earth. However, if there was anyone in the world who did not dream of it, it was Miss Dore. Endowed with deep skepticism, a green dye and a certain addiction to nicotine, she will do everything to leave Arda... Or so they thought. FIRST TRANSLATION OF MY LIFE.
1. The stars above

**To be perfectly honest with you, this story only starts from the chapter "**THE RINGS OF POWER AND THE THIRD AGE - Where these stories come to an end**", one of the last of our beloved and late Professor Tolkien's _Silmarillion_. I didn't know where to place it chronologically, given that both the _Hobbit_ and the _Lord of the Rings_ take place during the Third Age, unlike the journey of our beloved heroine of the Second Age. **

**So... let's just say I had to make a choice!**

**Hoping that poor Harley's adventures will entertain you,  
****The Storyteller.**

* * *

**BOOK FIRST  
****_CELFINNIL THE SIBYLLINE_**

* * *

_You bought a star in the sky tonight  
__Because your life is dark and it needs some light_

**_Buy the stars_**** \- Marina and the Diamonds**

Harley always thought stars were magic.

It was silly, childish even, but she couldn't help herself. Part of her mind, the rational one, would rise and explain again to the poetic one that stars were like the sun: huge nuclear reactors burning at thousands of parsecs.

But when she looked up at the night sky, as at that moment, she saw nothing but _magic_.

The high schoolgirl exhaled slowly, releasing the smoke full of nicotine trapped in her mouth. She watched the cloud curl up in the sky, her head empty. Behind her, the party was in full swing. The summer holidays were just beginning, and with them came the results of the high school diploma.

We celebrated success, the end of the anguish, the beginning of a new life. We danced around the campfire, beat the pebbles of our sneakers.

The joy was palpable in every one.

"Hey, Harley!"

The interpaled slowly turned to Valentine, who hailed her from the circle of crazy dancers. Her girlfriend giggled as she freed herself from her boyfriend's arms and came to her, her step wobbly on the round pebbles of the beach.

Harley tried not to grimace by taking off her earpiece, so as not to seem rude. The band's music spewed a steady stream of popular rap that she didn't particularly like. When Valentine came to sit next to her, her cheeks red with alcohol and her eyes misty, she took a long breath of her cigarette.

Gosh, she didn't like to be sociable...

"So, what's happening to you?" Her friend babbled. "Why aren't you dancin'?"  
"Nothing", Harley blew out of the smoke. "I'm not really in the mood..."  
"But you didn't miss your diploma!"

Harley looked at Cedric, who had fallen apart and drank his beer intermittently.

He had missed it and in style. He didn't even have enough points to pass the catch-up oral. She couldn't help but think meanly that he had been looking for it, having fooled around half the year and never study. But it wasn't her problem, it was Cedric's.

Harley turned to Valentine, who seemed to find the view of the grey waves magnificent.

"I just don't want to celebrate," she shrugged.  
"Hm. I _want_ a midnight swim. You comin'?"

Harley smiled and finished her cigarette. She stowed her phone in her bag and undressed at the same time as Valentine, keeping only her underwear. The girl took her friend's outstretched hand and ran laughing towards the sea.

They jumped in without preparation and started screaming.

"It's _cold_!"  
"Of course, it's night, you absolute potato!" Harley laughed back at her, just as refreshed as her friend.

Valentine sprayed her generously, pulling her a howl. They attracted the attention of the band, which eventually joined them in the water.

Harley stopped looking at the sky, for she no longer needed the magic of the stars.

**o0o  
**_You named it after me, but I'm not yours to keep  
__Because you'll never see, that the stars are free  
_**o0o**

The asphalt was hard, uneven and fresh under the soles of her feet. The wind lifted her hair dry and full of sea salt, sweeping away the few grains of sand from her legs. The sky was just beginning to turn purple, pale pink and orange. Some shy stars were still visible.

Harley had been stubbornly staring at them from the beginning of the road. _Anything_ to imperatively ignore the unpleasant presence of Julien.

This moron ended up following her when she left the gang some twenty minutes earlier, on the pretext that she was at risk of being attacked. If she was going to get mugged, he was at the top of the list of suspects.

The young girl gave him a dark corner look.

"… and then Adam threw his guts up, it was so cool!"

Harley pinched her lips.

It had been, well... Eight months, if not more, that Julien was bothering her, like a vulture around carrion. Honestly, it would have been flattering. If the guy wasn't constantly staring at her cleavage, her lower back or her legs. Seriously, he looked _in heat_.

Harley knew very well that wasn't the case with all boys. She had quite a few male friends in perfect working order, and her little brother wasn't like that either. But for him...

She resisted to drop her tennis shoes and punch him when he began to drool again in front of her wet top.

Once, she complained about it to her Baba. Her grandmother looked at her from head to toes, and then she let go: 'It's your fault, you just have to dress a little better than that!'. Haha. But that wasn't _quite_ the problem. Her short shorts, tank tops, and skirts were innocent. Unlike the looks and connotations, people gave them.

Did she want her to start hating her body, to feel complexed? All because she got checked out?

"…he's such a faggot anyway!"

Harley got incredibly tensed, holding back with all her strength a well-felt replica. Great Gods, she hated that word... Her own brother was gay, and her ears burned her every time she heard that degrading name.

Fortunately, she saw the shape of her building in the distance. She was finally going to get rid of that annoying, arrogant, repelling larva!

The girl wanted to accelerate the pace, eager to reach her goal and to slip between her clean sheets. After taking a shower, of course... But a huge hand grasped on her arm and pushed her against a wall.

She crashed against the store window in a small cry, eyes widened.

"The heck are you doing, Julien!" She exclaimed angrily.

He held her firmly by the wrists, with his eyes planted on her own.

Harley glanced at him and pushed him away. She did not put all her strength into it, convinced that he would understand that she did _not_ agree. But he only strengthened his grip and brought his face dangerously close.

"I'm tired of playing, Harley," he let go, deadly serious.  
"What are you talking about?" The girl mouthed, astonished.  
"Right, act like you don't know what I'm talkin' 'bout!'  
"I'm not kidding, I _don't_ know what you're..."

To her most immense horror, he kissed her.

Harley did not last any longer, freed herself easily thanks to the self-defense classes she had taken, and slapped him with a masterful slap. She spat on the ground to get rid of the disgusting taste of alcohol that she had never enjoyed and that he had passed on to her.

Julien seemed stunned and held his red cheek.

"Are you _crazy_!" He finally cried.  
"_I'm_ crazy?" She repeated, dazed. "You must be joking? You just attacked me, you moron!"  
"What? But you've wanted this for months!"  
"Where did you see that? I'm avoiding you like the Black Plague!"

He frowned and squared his shoulders in a pitiful imitation of a charismatic character from a pink water novel. Harley raised an unimpressed eyebrow and decided to resume her march.

This time, and this time _only_, she left him the excuse of alcohol that imbued his senses. She wanted to be nice and spare 'the poor darling', as Valentine called him. But he shouldn't take her for a frying pan, either. The 'poor darling' would feel her self-defense techniques the next time one of his phalanxes had the misfortune to land on her.

Harley royally ignored the young man's cries and supplications, typing the code of her building with rage. She slammed the door in his face and had a pinch of satisfaction in her heart.

**o0o  
**_Oh we don't own our heavens now  
__We only own our hell  
_**o0o**

It happened while she was coming out of the bathroom.

The young girl had just taken a shower to get rid of sea salt and sand. The water at her feet was colored with intense green when she wet and then rinsed her hair. She had come out in a bath sheet, a towel wrapped around her capillary mass. Her eyes were scrambled with fatigue, and after the episode 'Julien', she only asked for sleep.

But her grandmother was standing outside, her lips pinched, her eyes dark. Harley had lowered her head, ashamed.

"Baba, I am so-..."

The slap was so powerful that it turned her head.

Tiredness, shock, and sadness brought tears into her eyes. She swallowed her saliva and sniffed, patiently waiting for the next step.

And it did not delay, as always. Calina Dore would never miss an opportunity to belittle her granddaughter. Sometimes Harley wondered how her Baba would do if she wasn't there to support her constant criticism. Who would she hate? David? The neighbor across the corridor? The mailman who _still _managed to mix the mailboxes?

Maybe even her Baba would be so desperate for the hatred that she would adopt a dog to hate him…

"You are a little filth, like your mother," the old woman parsed with a poisonous tone. "The Good Lord keeps me from your decadence... You're a disgrace to the family!"  
"I'm sorry, Baba, I should have asked permission instead of sending a message to warn David," Harley mouthed in a tiny voice.  
"You reek of sin! Out of my sight," the Bulgarian woman spat out, glaring at her.

Harley bit her lip, holding her tears. She nodded and almost dropped her towel.

Her mother, her model, her heroine, and Calina's daughter-in-law, had died along with her father a few years earlier. Since then, she and her brother David lived with the only living member of their family: their grandmother.

And she made Harley endure a living Hell every day by opening her mouth.

**o0o  
**_And if you don't know that by now  
__Then you don't know me that well  
_**o0o**

Harley breathed a sigh of sheer boredom. And fatigue, because sleeping for three short hours was _clearly_ not enough. The mark on her cheekbone quickly faded, and David had no idea what had happened the day before. So much the better.

The schoolgirl lazily let her eyes linger on the displays of her grandmother's shop. Harley knew by heart the antiques on sale. She had been cleaning them every night for nearly three years now. She addressed a polite and kind smile to the old couple who presented themselves to her to pay for an old trinket.

"Stand up, Harley," her grandmother stripped of a dry tone in her back.  
"Yes, Baba," she mumbled and immediately tensed herself.

The occurrence of the previous day was both regular and occasional. Calina only slapped Harley when she went out with her friends at night, and Harley often went out with her friends.

The girl had developed a real terror of love relationships. She forbade herself from any love affair, any passionate relationship, anything close to sex. She was seventeen, she still had time, she was in no hurry.

In fact, it was the other way around. She was hoping to _delay_ that as long as socially and hormonally possible.

Harley did not denigrate girls of her age who displayed unbridled and shameless sexuality, she _admired_ them. She was absolutely terrified of her grandmother's reaction, for whom the purity of a young girl called her respectable. And to be respectable meant good to marry and to give birth. It deserved the family inheritance, and the fact of being housed, nourished, bleached.

Harley, with her long hair dyed green, her ear piercings and her modern language, which Baba referred to as "vulgar", was the very image of depravity.

The high school girl breathed a sigh of despair by passing the bar code of an African statuette under the laser. She cashed her client with mechanism, then watched him come out of a dull air. Even the bell of the shop no longer made her react.

"Hey, hey, Lily!"

The high school student straightened up quickly. Only one person in the world still called her like that.

David, her brother, was moving through the shelves covered in antiques like an elephant in the middle of a china shop.

If Harley was alike their father, Dave was the spitting image of their mother, with his blond hair curling softly over his temples and eyes in such a pure electric blue that it hurt her retina. He was nevertheless huge as the late Natanail Dore.

The girl had never understood the injustice that reigned under her grandmother's roof: Harley was the spitting image of her only son, and she hated her. Dave was, on the contrary, a carbon copy of their mother so much hated by that same grandmother, and she adored him. Not that she complained, she would have blown her Baba's teeth if she had dared to touch the hair of David's head. But she didn't really understand this woman's logic.

Anyway, her brother was there, standing in front of her, in the middle of the shelves like he was lost.

"Guess you've finished your training, Dave?" She smiled gently to cheer him up.

David Dore was part of the high school rugby team and was a real star among his teammates and coach. Harley had stopped counting the times Mr. Venopazi, her Italian teacher, praised her cadet prodigy in the middle of class.

Even if she had to admit that she did not understand anything about this somewhat barbaric sport, she encouraged Dave with all her heart.

"Yeah, it was pretty cool," replied her brother as he approached to meet at the counter. "I can't wait to start again next year! The coach didn't stop whining because he'd no longer blow his damn whistle for two months," giggled the blond by spinning the said whistle between his fingers.  
"You stole Mr. Venopazi's whistle?" Harley laughed by grabbing the object. "You're crazy, he's going to rip your head off!"  
"Nah, he loves me too much for that!"  
"You know he never takes it off, even for classes? I met him once at the supermarket, and he _totally_ whistled at his kid! He's gonna rip your head off, Dave!"

The brother and sister giggled in their corner for a while, breaking sugar on the back of their teacher willingly.

Harley and David had always gotten along like thieves. When they were little, they lived in the mountains, right next to a forest. They spent their time playing in trees and streams together. When they wanted to prank, David worked out the plan and Harley applied it. If she had facilities with languages and literature, he preferred science, so they helped each other. She had succeeded in her sophomore year thanks to him!

But David had no idea what their Baba was doing to Harley. It was better that way.

The girl didn't like to hide things from her younger brother, but she didn't want him to start hating Calina for it. He was far too pure, too innocent. It had to be preserved. And then, it wasn't so terrible: she wasn't properly speaking beaten.

So, she endured her grandmother's moods.

"By the way, Julien was there at training," David released suddenly.

The information fell like a hair on the soup.

Harley, who was reviewing the events of the previous day unfolded before her eyes almost dropped the box of antiques she was holding. Calina had asked them to go and tidy up the back room, and she would _not_ be happy to see her precious junk damaged…

Her grip on the box strengthened, and she released a 'hmm?' in response. _Put away the box, the subject will pass quickly_, she thought by placing her charge in on a shelf.

"He seemed strange, today," her brother continued in a tone far too innocuous.

He could have told her about the results of the Queen of England's last croquet match that he would have used the same tone.

"He is always strange," she said, grabbing a new box without looking at her brother.  
"He talked to me," replied David. "That's what's strange."  
"I thought things were better, that he apologized for the beginning of the year?"

In September, when David entered high school and joined the rugby team, he had problems with a few people. Dave had never hidden his sexual orientation, and some people were uncomfortable with that.

Julien had been one of them, calling him a 'faggot' and other despicable names as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

But Dave turned out to be excellent at rugby, and some of the most persevering. A real head of bacon! So, the derogatory comments stopped, and people came to apologize for their behavior. Julien had been one of the first to do so, which had attracted Harley's attention at the time.

It was a _completely_ gone time. Despite his maturity towards Dave, he was a moron.

"Maybe, but he's not the type to speak with younger players," blew her blondie brother in her back. "Anyway, he came to talk to me. Of you."  
"Ah," she kept counting the porcelain cups in the open box in front of her.  
"You and him, especially."  
"Eleven, twelve…" She mumbled. "So what?"

Perfect, there was the count.

"He said that you were… uh that you had…"  
"What did I have?" She said, grabbing one of the cups to wipe off the dust.  
"He said you jumped him last night and slapped him when he pushed you away."

CLING!

The pretty white porcelain cup, with delicate green and purple bird patterns, exploded into a thousand pieces on the tile floor.

As mortified as Harley was going to be when she'd realized it later, for now, she cared even less about it than her first bubble of drool. She turned sharply to her younger brother, stunned by his words, and stared at him without a word for a moment.

What was that all about?

"_What_?" She breathed, a strange feeling flowing into her veins.  
"He said that you forced Valentine and the gang to take a midnight swim in the sea, that you had a disturbing behavior."  
"She came to see me…"  
"Apparently, you insisted that he walk you home, and you annoyed him all the way… Before you threw yourself at him."

Harley's thoughts were mixed up.

What did he say? All that was… Impossible! It absolutely did _not_ happen like that, she remembered it perfectly! Valentine had come to talk to her, she had offered the bath in the sea… Julien had forcibly taken her home and he had fed her up with stupid stories about himself!

And he kissed her without her consent!

"This is nonsense!" _Oh boy_, did she get mad... "This idiot told you lies; he lied all the way! He's the one who kissed me! It's Valentine who decided to go swimming! And it's Julien who insisted on accompanying me!"  
"I believe you, it's true it was strange coming from you," smiled her brother.  
"Wait until I catch him, I'll teach him to fantasize a life on my back!"

His brother laughed with relief. Harley was not frivolous as Julien had described her, nor was she attracted to him. She liked to go out, yes, but she was so strict with herself that she never even had a boyfriend.

He watched her brandish her mobile phone like a trophy with a tender air. She seemed determined to teach Julien a lesson!

"Damn, I don't have his number, can't insult him," the girl swore in her corner. "I'll call Valentine, she can tell you what happened!"  
"No need, I believe you," he laughed.  
"Maybe, but it makes me _so mad_!

Unfortunately, she didn't have time to call anyone, because her grandmother came to check on their work. And Harley got yelled at in due form for the poor little cup.

When they finally got home, Harley threw herself on the mattress she shared with her not-so-little brother. There were only two bedrooms in her grandmother's apartment, and her Baba was fond of her comfort. So, the siblings slept in a room that could have been used as a broom closet, if there had been brooms, for several years.

If there was not a single broom on sight, the walls were covered with posters bought at the cinema down the street. Those on her brother's side were all from the same movies: the trilogies of _The_ _Lord of the Rings_ and _The_ _Hobbit_. Harley couldn't turn her head without facing an Aragorn with a magic sword in his fist or a Legolas lost in his mind. In other words, if Dave was a big fan of both the movies and books, she didn't enjoy the world of Middle Earth. She preferred _Harry Potter_ or _Pirates of the Caribbean_ a thousand times more.

Still puzzled by this story with Julien, she called Valentine, turning the call on speakerphone to get Dave involved.

The elder's friend soon answered.

"_Hello?_" She answered in a tired voice.  
"Oof, you are _not_ okay," Harley immediately worried.  
"_Excuse me, but who is this?_"

Valentine's question made Harley frown before a smile appeared on her face. Her friend must have been struggling with her hangover…

"It's Harley, you absolute potato!" She laughed nicely. "Are you o- ?"  
"_Who are you?_" Her friend became impatient. "_I'm warnin' you, I'm gonna hang up, I'm not in the mood._"  
"But Val-"

The tone indicating that Valentine had hung up on her nose cut her off. Harley exchanged a long look with her youngest, disoriented. She didn't call a fake number, her friend's had been registered on her card years ago.

The girl stood up, worried about her friend. She grabbed her jacket and quickly packed a bag into which she stuffed some 'survival' items.

Harley then turned to David, who stared at her without saying a word.

"Can I borrow Dad's bike?" She reached out with her hand. "She lives half an hour from Le Havre, I don't think I'll be home tonight. I'll probably sleep at her place, it's late."  
"No problem" he gave her the keys in a sigh. "Just be careful, and warn Baba, OK?"

Harley nodded. After notifying her grandmother and assuring her that she was sleeping with a friend and not a 'suitor', she exited the building.

Their father's beautiful Harley Davidson was parked in the parking lot, its shiny paint reflecting the twilight. Natanail Dore had the idea, since his wife was also a big fan of old motorcycles, to name their children according to his favorite bike. When she was little, Harley kept blaming him for such a ridiculous reason to name a baby.

But as she climbed on the machine and grabbed the handlebars forcefully, she simply smiled and felt, strangely, in her place. Harley Quinn and her Harlequin side could eat her hat.

Now was time for Harley Dore and her leather jacket.

**o0o  
**_All my life I've been so lonely  
__All in the name of being holy  
_**o0o**

Harley knocked on the Martins' front door, expecting Valentine's mother to greet her with a smile and her muffins. But Mrs. Martin opened the door, seemed to judge her from the tip of her ranger boots to the tip of her emerald hair, and winced.

"What can I do for you?" She asked with a dry tone.  
"Mrs. Martin, I would like to see Valentine, please," said the schoolgirl.  
"Why would _you_ like to see her?"

Harley blinked, flabbergasted. It was the first time that Mrs. Martin pushed her away. Even though Val and herself would be having a hard time she'd be welcoming and charming to Harley, almost like a second mother.

She frowned, more and more disoriented.

"If it's not important, you'd better go back, Miss," Mrs. Martin said, as she was closing the door to Harley's face.  
"No, wait!" She exclaimed as she climbed up the few stairs in front of the door.

But no matter how hard she knocked, rang, re-knocked and re-rang, she was left alone in the cold of summer evenings.

Harley returned to the bike with her hands stuck in her pockets and completely lost. Between Julien talking nonsense, Valentine and her mother who did not recognize her… What did the heck happen? What kind of sick joke was that?

The teenage girl climbed on the two wheels machine and mumbled. Just last week, Mrs. Martin offered her a home and a meal worthy of a princess. And here she was, kicking her out, without even letting her see Val? Harley put her helmet on in a sharp, wounded gesture. If it was another dirty move from Julien, it would cost him.

Very much expensively.

**o0o  
**_Still, you'd like to think you know me  
__You keep buyin' stars  
_**o0o**

Facing the door of her building again, she typed the code with a raging air. She didn't yet understand what was going on, but she was going to. And as soon as she caught the smart guy who dared to pull a stunt like that, she would emasculate him.

Annoyed, she took the handle and lowered it. But nothing. She could push, pull, and force the handle, but the door of her building did not open.

Did she have the wrong code? Again, she typed it and patiently waited for the sizzle that announced the opening of the building. But a flat calm replied. She typed the four digits again, in the right order. But still _nothing_. Was she denied access? Or did the owner change the combination and her Baba forgot to tell her about it?

No, that kind of thing moved the whole neighborhood. She would have heard about it.

Panicking, she picked on the poor keys, typing and re-typing the sequence of numbers endlessly.

"Лайна[1]" she swore in Bulgarian when she was refused entry for the umpteenth time. "I'm freezing!"  
"Are you done?" The guard growled angrily when he suddenly appeared. "Go find another place and stop attacking our security system!"  
"Michelin!" She exclaimed, knocking against the glass. "Michelin it's me, Harley Dore!"

He gave her a pitch-black look, and then simply ignored her.

And her cell phone didn't pick up any signals downtown… Was it even _possible_ to have such bad luck? Swearing again, she returned to her father's bike and went away.

Fortunately, she did not hear her brother's cries of panic, leaning to their bedroom window, screaming 'Thief!' from the top of his lungs.

Harley stopped at a gas station in the south of the city, needing to refuel before arriving at Tiphanie's, another of her friends living outside Le Havre. She had decided to spend the night at her home, or under a bridge, if she didn't recognize her either. The girl was getting sick of this story.

"Лайна" She spat when her card was refused by the machine.

Harley didn't want to see anyone, and certainly not some half-depressed guy leaning over the station cash register.

But it was not a decrepit man who welcomed her. It was the luminous smile of a young woman with very blue hair, skin so pale that it seemed to radiate, and the most beautiful yet strange eyes she'd ever seen.

"Good evening!" The employee sang with a funny accent. "I am Aiwë, what can I do for you?"  
"My bike's dry," mumbled Harley, pointing the bike with a movement of the chin, "and your damn machine refuses my credit card. You take cash for gas?"  
"Hm-hm!" Nodded the bluish woman, nodding inordinately. "Do you want some tea, by the way? I made enough to last the night, but there's too much, I'm never gonna leave the toilet if I drink everything!"

Harley raised an eyebrow without answering. What a strange woman…

Aiwë must have thought that her silence was tantamount to a chord since she handed her a Mr. Potato cup filled with a steaming and colored liquid.

The mug warmed her fingers even through the leather gloves she wore on the motorcycle. Her cheeks, cooled by the speed on the road, warmed up when she bent over to smell the drink. It smelled like flowers and sweet spices.

The drink was too hot for her to drink, she settled on a wheeled chair which Aiwë advanced to her. It was actually a nice name, with a strange but beautiful consonance. They discussed for a moment, especially of the loneliness of the bluish woman in such a little-visited resort.

"By the way, it's strange," Harley said suddenly, without having touched the drink. "I can't remember a station 'round here."  
"Oh, we opened a few months ago," smiled Aiwë. "Now, drink your tea, it will get cold and taste bad!"

Harley did not answer, soaking her lips in the hot liquid. The taste was strange, sweet-bitter and it seemed to smell a hint of grapefruit. Not quite her favorite, but it got married strangely well with the other flavors.

The weirdest and most notable fact was that she emptied her mug in three seconds.

Harley had nothing against tea and even loved infusions during winter. But never, ever, did she drink that kind of beverage so fast. An irresistible urge to drink the burning liquid again took her to the gut, and she got agitated, looking for the teapot. We could have mistaken her for a drug addict.

The girl, after calming herself instantly when Aiwë had touched her forehead, was taken by a strange feeling of fullness.

"What's it… What d'fuck did'ya put in it?" Harley stammered with a raging tone, snooping around the bottom of her cup looking for traces of GHB or LSD. "Fucked up! Ya fucked me up!"  
"This tea is made from purple athelas, a very rare variety, even at home," calmly answered the bluish woman while drinking peacefully her own cup. "It has the effect of sleeping, and of facilitating the physical acceptance of spells… The more you get angry, the faster my spell will act. Please, make yourself angry!"

Harley couldn't keep her eyelids open, and her vision was getting blurry. Her fingertips were shaking, and her forehead was covered in cold sweat.

Mind locked in thick cotton, she still managed to have a coherent thought: she had to get out of there, and quickly.

In the fog, she took her helmet and straightened up, throwing the chair around. Aiwë was agitating beside her, apparently not expecting her reaction. Although she walked in the wrong direction and found it difficult to orient herself, she was able to find her way out and rushed outside as quickly as her condition permitted it.

The cool air of the night whipped her face, invigorating her a little.

Harley made the monumental effort to get on her father's bike and then started it without even seeing what she was doing. The door to the station shop slammed, and Aiwë ran to her screaming.

"Harley! Harley, _wait_, it's too dangerous!"

The high school girl ignored her and headed straight to the highway in a machine roar.

**o0o  
**_And you could buy up all the stars,  
__But it wouldn't change who you are  
_**o0o**

The sun was setting over the valley of Imladris, dyeing the surroundings in ochre and marvelous colors.

From his personal balcony, Oropher observed the landscape with a dull and slightly tired eye. Behind his back, his wife was busy flipping her cupboards in search of the perfect dress for the upcoming evening.

Turning away from the vision offered by Rivendell, the king raised an eyebrow.

"My dear, I think it would be easier if you were assisted by a maid," he slipped gently while joining his companion.  
"Oropher," sighed the sovereign of Greenwood the Great, "this debate is sterile, and you know it very well."  
"I simply cannot understand why you do not want any help…"  
"I can get dressed on my own," moaned Arin[2] by grabbing a pale pink dress. "These poor girls have enough work with all the ladies and princesses who flood them with orders from morning until evening!"

Oropher was amused when she said that the pink dress would "do the trick".

His advisers had strongly criticized him, at the time, for marrying a simple courtesan of more than doubtful blood. Arin had been raised on Númenor, and the result of this lineage was a very temperamental behavior and an unfortunate accent. He never regretted his choice, and the birth of his son had strengthened his decision.

Arin, with her temperament and rank far below his own, was the woman of his life.

The king of the Greenwood the Great waited patiently for his wife to finish her grooming, helping her to braid her long golden hair. As soon as they set foot outside the apartments assigned to them, Arin became silent.

In society, she always wore a mask and forced herself to curb her terrible northern accent. His beloved was far from being stupid: she knew that even after millenniums and a few centuries, some did not like her affiliation with Men. Only the youngest did not seem to take this into account.

Elrond, Lord of Imladris, was particularly fascinated by Arin's stories. What could be more natural? He missed his twin.

"_Melleth nin_," she blew to draw him from his thoughts. "Lord Celeborn seems to want a word to you…"

He nodded and let his beloved wife slide through the crowd, certainly looking for Celebrian or Lindir.

King Oropher was in the middle of a discussion with Lord Celeborn when a great noise was heard from afar in the forest. A tensed silence yet filled with curiosity took place, and some went to the balconies to see the source of the sound.

For long and agonizing minutes, there was nothing. Then they were all swept away by an invisible force, the very foundations of the palace seemed to creak. The wave of power that had passed through them did not reappear, and Oropher was joined by the kings Gîl-Galad and Amdír, followed by their personal guards.

"What is happening?" He asked immediately. "Are we under attack?"  
"I do not think so," replied the High King of the Noldor. "The citadel is well protected; we have guards stationed all around the estate."  
"It seemed to come from the forest," the king of Lorien intervened. "We should go and see what is happening there, in order to reassure our peoples."  
"Let us accompany the guards," acquiesced Gîl-Galad as they rushed through the corridors to the stables.

It was at this moment that the most inhuman and full of distress howl in the world tore the peace of the valley, freezing them like statues.

**o0o  
**_You're still living life in the dark  
__It's just who you are  
_**o0o**

Harley couldn't remember clearly what happened. All she knew was that one moment, the road was right before her eyes, and the next, she was on a glide in the middle of the forest bordering Le Havre.

When she finally hit the tree to which her body was rushing, she felt as if she was passing through shattered glass. Her body sank, sank, sank far into the old elm, and everything became dark around her. Breathing with difficulty, she felt only the mist forming on the glass of her helmet, before fainting.

Harley opened her eyes just a few seconds later, her head still heavy. She took off her motorcycle helmet, grimacing, and inspired in the open air.

The sky above her was filled with stars sparkling like diamonds. It was a spectacle she had not seen since the death of her parents, the pollution of Le Havre concealing the stars.

A deep calm invaded her. She was going to be able to rest, was it in the forest or not.

The young Norman inspired again clean air with full lungs, a heavy heart and a head full of questions.

It was at that very moment that the pain came.

Her whole body burned her, itched her, her muscles seemed to come alive under her skin.

Tears falling down her cheeks, she screamed at the top of her lungs, praying that she would be found, that she would be freed from this evil… even if it meant ending her.

Stunned by suffering, she was squirming on the ground, cambering herself with pain and her fingers clenching on the straps of her helmet. Her skull was boiling, almost like it was changing shape.

The girl barely noticed the people around her, stunned by such a spectacle. She did not respond to their calls, nor when they had tried to keep her still, too carried away by the waves of pain that were pouring into her body.

Like a disarticulated puppet, she did absolutely nothing when a man took her in his arms.

All she could remember was a strand of white hair and a hard, cold as ice, gaze.

**o0o  
**_It's just who you are_

* * *

**[1] _Shit_ (Bulgarian)  
****[2] _Morning_ (Quenya or Sindarin, I can't remember)**

**I'm sorry if there are mistakes in the text, I wrote it originally in French and used a translating website out of pure laziness, feel free to correct me! Though, Harley being French and given that she uses our slangs and expressions (translated, which can be super weird to read), I'm not going to correct those, for they are too much fun to write haha**

**Hope you guys liked it!  
****The Storyteller (yes, that's what a _conteur_/_conteuse_ is)**


	2. Run, run little bird

_They tried to tell me I was lost_  
_In the forest like a cub_

_**Run for your life**_** – K. Flay**

If the pain of her body had been unbearable, transcendent, heartbreaking, burning… It was absolutely nothing compared to the headache that invaded her skull.

It was as if her brain was nearing implosion, her temples cracking, ready to yield under pressure. Blood would then squirt as much as memories and wisdom. Bits of brains and knowledge would flow from the gaping wound, then soak everything in a bath of regret and cerebrospinal fluid.

The pernicious feeling that her skull had been filled with molten lava never left her. Everything waited patiently for the inflammation that would turn her mind into a heap of steaming ashes.

Harley felt a hand lay like a butterfly on her forearm, and her hair stood up. She could feel her hair reacting, a wave of goosebumps rising along her elbow and the electricity of a chill at the mere touch of these foreign fingers. The strange impression of having been able to feel a nervous message brushed her consciousness, but she pushed it away. No human could detect such things.

A crease of tissue echoed in the air, intruding like a snake in the flat and peaceful silence of the room. A heatwave indicated to Harley that a person was leaning toward her, including her face.

"You should wake up," whispered a breath, sweeping the down over her Cupid bow. "It will be easier for you to swallow the potion…"

Potion. An aqueous and sweetened preparation containing one or more medicinal substances for internal use. According to the Larousse dictionary. Name used for sorcerer mixtures.

Harry Potter. Hermione Granger. Polynectar. Veritaserum. Felix Felicis. Amortentia. Doxycide. Wiggenweld. Drops of sleep. Magic cleans-all the Grattesec Mother. Butterbeer. Pumpkin juice. Fire-Whisky.

What the hell happened to her? In front of her eyes danced every memory of potions, and half of them came from the magical universe of J.K Rowling. She suddenly remembered every word, every sentence of every chapter of every _Harry Potter _book, including the appearance of their covers, their respective summaries, their smells of printed paper.

Everything.

Great Gods.

"You know, I could also administer it to you this way," blew the voice again, whose intonation was so low that Harley was unable to define their genre. "However, Lady Aiwë told me to make sure that you were well before…"

Aiwë. _Good evening! I'm Aiwë, what can I do for you? Hm-hm! You want some tea, by the way? I made it to last the whole night, but there's too much, I'm never gonna leave the toilet if I drink everything! Oh, we opened a few months ago. Now, drink your tea, it will get cold and taste bad! This tea is made from purple athelas, a very rare variety, even at home. It has the effect of sleeping, and of facilitating the physical acceptance of spells… The more you get angry, the faster my spell will act. Please, make yourself angry! _

_Harley! Harley, wait, it's too dangerous! _

Dangerous. Aiwë. Drink. Spell. _Wake up_. Pain in the body. Pain in the skull. Incongruous memories.

The accident.

Her eyelids opened abruptly, her chest rising eagerly. With her lips open, she tried to take a deep breath, her heart beating at breaking in her temples. The dryness of her throat caused her a sharp and painful cough, her pasty tongue seeking in vain to hydrate in the inexistent saliva.

Harley had to close her lips, inhaling deeply through the nostrils, the eyes browsing the room, looking for clues. Where was she? How did she get out? No one survived such a fall.

Two fingers landed like a bat of an eyelash on the naked skin of her wrist. Her gaze turned to the person at fault, filled with mistrust but also curiosity.

It was a perfectly androgynous being. A long face, big cat eyes, a pale complexion framed by endless strands neither blond nor really red. They had a light smile floating on their hemmed lips, their index and middle fingers tracing reassuring circles on Harley's dermis.

The most striking thing was their eyes, immensities of a nebulous and opaline void. Blind.

"I see that you are finally awake," they simply said.  
"…ursty", croaked Harley, tongue drier than a piece of parchment.  
"Oh, of course…"

They handed her a metal cup filled with a colorless, odorless liquid, but Harley nevertheless preferred to dip her finger in it and check its taste from the tip of the tongue. Her last experience with an offered liquid did _not_ go well…

Okay, yes, there _were_ countless substances that could be diluted in water without altering the taste, but honestly— Harley was thirsty. _Very_ thirsty. There could have been a cyanide capsule hidden at the bottom of the cup that she would have gobbled it all round in her greedy swallows.

Harley couldn't help but spread a drop of water along her dehydrated lips from the thumb dish. In doing so, she observed more clearly the room in which she was staying.

Everything was white, floor to ceiling. The walls were bathed in a bluish and luminous atmosphere thanks to the lunar rays that passed through huge ogive windows. The patterns engraved on the columns and the very shape of the room reminded her of the monasteries and convents her grandmother loved to visit.

"What a … weird hospital …" She babbled, frowning her eyebrows when she noticed the total absence of electrical appliances.  
"I'm afraid this is just the beginning of your surprises, Damsel Harley," gently smiled the blind person. "My name is Haloisi, and you are in the Healing Rooms of Rivendell, you have been rescued by King Gïl-Galad's knights."

Harley slowly blinked her eyelids, her brain too invaded with stray thoughts and useless memories for her to actually react.

Rivendell. Another name of the Imladris Valley. Last Homely House west of the Misty Mountains. _The_ _Lord of the Rings_. _The Hobbit_. J.R.R Tolkien. Middle Earth. Dave's glorious posters defiled in her mind, every detail seemed to be accentuated.

Dave settling next to her, their computer opened on the first part of the saga. Dave reading her passages from _The Silmarillion_ when she got violent stomach flu. Dave giving her a detailed report of his extensive research into Professor Tolkien's life or the chronology of events in the fantastic universe.

Gîl-Galad. An Elvenking. Supposed to be dead.

Death. Irreversible state of a biological organism that has ceased to live. It is characterized by a break in the consistency of the vital processes, such as nutrition or respiration, of the organism under consideration. At the cellular level, means stopping the basic functions of a cell.

Cell. _Cellula_. Basic structural and functional biological unit of all known living beings. Smallest living unit capable of reproducing itself autonomously. Homonym: part of a prison where criminals are locked up.

Criminals. Crime. Murder. Murder. _Assassin's Creed_. Boat. Pirate. Captain Jack Sparrow. Captain Crochet. Crochet. Embroidery. Fabrics. Patterns. Flowers. Botany. Science. Mathematics. Reality. Atom. Democritus. Philosopher. Ancient Greece. Gods. Myths. Hercules. Achilles.

"I feel like I'm going crazy," wailed the high school girl with a shaky breath, eyes lost in the emptiness. "Madness. Polysemic notion. Behaviors judged and/or characterized as abnormal. Social norms, marginalization, society…"  
"_Wen_ Harley, please look at me," enjoined Haloisi in a gentle tone.  
"Everything… All that, I… I don't understand," Harley's anguish flew through her words, her chest oppressed. "I… It's as if all that… All that I could ever read, see, hear, say, feel, _everything_! It all comes back to me… It hurts _so much_!" She groaned, fingers foraging in her emerald wicks.  
"You must drink this, _wen_ Harley," they smiled with compassion. "Lady Aiwë prepared it to relieve you…"

Harley did not deign to look at the vial that they handed her, half turned towards one of the ogive windows. Her hearing had just captured the delicate lapping of a river below the valley, while her nostrils quivered at the smell of undergrowth.

It was _not_ possible. Absolutely and definitively impossible. Her auditory or olfactory abilities were similar to those of a normal human being, her vision was drastically impaired for several months. She could not feel or hear what she was perceiving. Her senses had not developed during the night, for Christ's sake!

Creasing of fabric. A shadow laying on the ground, on the periphery of her field of vision. A movement in the air made the hairs bristle on the back her hand.

Before Haloisi could put two fingers on her forehead, obviously to take her temperature, Harley intercepted his wrist with the vivacity of a cobra. Grip firm, she gauged the blond of a suspicious air.

A potion. Lady Aiwë. Healing Rooms. Rivendell. Gîl-Galad.

Her brain finally connected A+B with the information that they had uttered, and quite frankly the result of the equation disturbed her.

"I'll ask you only once, Haloisi," she whispered in a tone of doubt and mistrust. "_Who_ are you?"  
"Haloisi Endienion, _wen_ Harley, humble servant of the House of Lord Elrond," they grimaced in a tone that was always so delicate. "Ñoldo elf of the Valley of Imladris."

The moment they closed their lips, Harley straightened like a bow, analyzing the pulse she felt under the pulp of her fingers.

Part of her mind wondered why her behavior was so suspicious and calculating since it did not resemble her at all. She did not know if it was the remnants of her migraine that put her empathic thoughts to sleep, but she measured Haloisi's pulse.

Calm, without the slightest hitch. They really believed in this nonsense.

The young girl mumbled a vague 'sorry', which caused Haloisi to frown their eyebrows with incomprehension, before catching the first blunt object that came and to shoot it forcefully on the jaw of her opposite. Haloisi's body collapsed, stunned by what looked like a clean chamber pot.

Harley stood up immediately and rushed to the door, leaving the chamber pot in favor of a candelabra dragging on a piece of furniture.

The empathetic part of her mind longed to turn around and make sure they was okay, while her rational part cared even less than about the year 40. She had had a good aim for the jaw, which would send anyone out in the cold if the blow was good. They would get better— And anyway, she had other things to do.

To be kidnapped by a group of bigoted fanatics was not quite in her plans for the future.

Harley did not know what kind of drugs they had given her to refine her senses, but she hoped that this would be eliminated from her body without consequences. The Eddie Morra-style bad trip on NZT? Thank you but, _no_, thank you.

The girl inspired and pressed her fists to stop the tremors of her fingers. She had to act and think rationally, and ignore her guilt towards her kind caregiver.

"_You need to set clear goals, birdie_," Daddy often said.  
Goals? Very well! 1. Observe. 2. Stay in the shadows. 3. Find a way out.

Quite frankly, she felt stupid to set the goal of finding a way out: there was nothing easier. Either these fanatics absolutely wanted to remain faithful to the scenery present in the cinematographic adaptations of Peter Jackson, or they were confident enough to give all their recruits the opportunity to sneak out the window.

Literally.

"Ah, my Lords Feredir and Garafgell! You are very timely!" Exclaimed a voice about twenty meters from Harley, who was cleverly hidden in a recess of the wall.  
"What can we do for you, Erestor?" Answered a male timbre, obviously younger and much more cheerful.  
"It so happens that Lord Elrond asked me to inquire about the state of the strange _firieth_ with green hair," began to explain the first voice, to the utter horror of Harley. "However, she appeared to have run away and stunned poor Haloisi!"  
"Would you like us to help you find her?" There was a third voice, stuffed, with a strange accent with Arabic consonances.  
"Please," blew the so-called 'Erestor' as they finally surpassed the girl's hiding place. "This _firieth_ is, notwithstanding protocol, under the responsibility of His Majesty Gîl-Galad… "

Hell, they really believed that!

Somewhat shaken by the words of the three men, Harley waited patiently to stop hearing their footsteps in the corridor before daring to come out in the light of the torches.

If her mind wasn't so crushed and scrambled with stray thoughts that were far too logical for her whimsical character, Harley would probably have noticed the beauty of the place. The finesse of the architecture was exquisite…

Unfortunately, her heightened survival instinct and the situation in which she had herself become bogged down did not lend itself to tourism.

To her utter horror, the place seemed surrounded by woods, no sign of modern civilization in the surrounding hills either. There were only forests, rivers, waterfalls and cliffs as far as the eye could see.

"Where the hell I am," she swore by hiding behind a fountain while a troop of people in armor passed by, screaming in a strange dialect. "_Of_ _course_, I don't have my phone… Perfect!"

To tell the truth, she had virtually nothing on her— aside from a pair of panties and this long nightgown, which looked like the one Elizabeth Swan wore at the beginning of _The Pirates of the Caribbean_. Not quite her style, honestly.

As the troop moved away, she straightened up and observed her surroundings, little inclined to throw herself headfirst into the mouth of the wolf. The courtyard in which she had taken refuge seemed empty of people and had immediate access to the woods, which drew a smile full of delight to the girl.

The moment she came out of hiding, visibly preparing to run the sprint of her life towards the dark, bushy trees, there was a rumble of cavalcade in her back.

"_Ernil Thranduil!_" The jovial voice from before exclaimed of an otherwise more urgent tone. "_Garon Celfinnil hirnnen_[1]_!_"  
"I don't get it, but it stinks," mumbled Harley before jumping into the woods.

Her heart began to dance a frenzied salsa when the sounds of a chasing troupe reached her ears, making her triple the rhythm of her footsteps.

The sky was dark, barely lit by a moonlit quarter hidden behind cottoned clouds, and yet Harley could see perfectly between the huge black trees. The musky smell of moss invaded her nostrils, her silhouette drifting between the trunks like an emerald arrow, barely hindered in her movements by the dust-stained nightgown.

Her breath remained steady, her forehead dry from the slightest drop of sweat. Harley frowned as her mad run continued, destabilized by the almost non-existent reactions of her body. She barely felt the thorns of the conifers under her feet!

A sudden crack on her right made her head turn for half a second before a body violently hits her on the ground, cutting her thoughts as well as her escape.

Harley, wide-eyed with terror, struggled fiercely against this stranger who dared to keep her still. She dealt many blows, fought like a devil in the strong arms of the man.

"Let me go!" She thundered, straightening her pelvis to shake her attacker.  
"_Daro_[2]!" He growled in response, tackling Harley's arms along her body.  
"Let me the fuck go!" She swore before violently swinging her head forward.

A disgusting crackle rang, and the man gave a whimper that left Harley marble. However, when a few thick, lukewarm drops rained on her face, she opened her eyes, overwhelmed by her own behavior.

She just broke someone's nose. Okay, yes, he attacked her first and was obviously part of the sect responsible for her abduction given his outfit, but… It was still a strange feeling to be responsible for the pain of others, especially a stranger.

Mortified, she observed the scarlet hemoglobin flowing slowly from the nostrils of the man with long golden hair.

"Oh _shit_, I'm so sorry," she said.  
"For the Valar's sake, it must have been a century since I had been broken a bone," moaned her aggressor in the silence that had settled.  
"Technically," said the high-school student, whose brain was full of memories, "I broke your cartilage, your skull would be too hard."

The man froze, his lips quivering as if he hesitated to laugh at this odd situation, to say the least, or to ask her what asylum she had fled from.

Harley, for her part, no longer really thought of running away, all her energy seemed to have vanished, replaced by an incredible dose of guilt towards the mess she had caused. It was that the blondie was darn beautiful if one puts aside the twisted nose dropping of blood. He had, most importantly, charming hazelnut eyes.

He observed her for a moment, doubtful, and then straightened himself, ceasing to immobilize her. She had obviously calmed down, and was no longer likely to escape from them… In any case, she did not know these woods at all, otherwise, she would be much further away.

He settled on a rock a few steps away, and the strange young woman followed him, observing his wound.

"Keep your head straight," she said, "otherwise the blood will clot in your sinuses."  
"You appear to be familiar with this type of injury," he noted as his face turned blue.  
"Darn, it's really ugly," she grimaced. "My lil' brother often gets hurt, he plays rugby."

Feredir raised an intrigued eyebrow but did not have time to ask what 'rug-be' was. Three silhouettes were drawn between the trees, joining the strange duo they formed.

The herald of the Ñoldor sovereign was the first to cross the edge of the small clearing in which they found themselves, with his eyes restless and his jaws tense. Elrond held in his hand a strange little flask containing an anise-colored liquid that seemed to glow in the dark. Perhaps was it a cure? After all, Eärendil's son was known for his healing skills…

Behind the Peredhel appeared the shiny armors and blond hair of Lord Glorfindel and Prince Thranduil. Feredir could not hear the reason why the son of his suzerain had joined the search, but it seemed to him that His Highness shone with pride at the thought that one of his soldiers had found the fugitive.

Said _firieth_ looked at the arrivals with curiosity, a spark of mistrust at the bottom of her irises of an incredible aventurine color.

"Sire Feredir, you have all my gratitude," sighed the herald Elrond as he approached. "My lady, it was not prudent to venture out of the Healing Rooms in your state…"  
"Do not fret, Peredhel," smiled greatly Lord Glorfindel, jovial. "Let us not forget that this young lady has stunned our dear Haloisi, I am sure that she is feeling like a charm!"

The young lady in question got pink, somewhat ashamed of her savage behavior. However, Harley camped on her legs and stared Elrond right in the eye, a glimmer of challenge in the iris.

"Let's be clear: I won't go _anywhere_," she whistled, her fists firmly clenched. "Not until someone explains what kind of _bullshit_ you got me into!"

If the Lords Elrond and Thranduil faded in front of her crude and clumsy vocabulary, Glorfindel and Feredir quietly clung, drawing the silent stormed gaze of the Woodland Realm's heir. Nevertheless, Feredir had a grimace: his laugh had awakened the pain, and henceforth his cheekbones hurt him horribly.

"Ah, yeah, and if you could fix your buddy, I broke his nose," Harley said with a pitiful grin, noticing the tearful eyes of her "attacker".  
"What did I tell you, Lord Elrond?" Exclaimed the man with the golden curls in a small laugh. "_Like-a-charm_!"  
"What did you call him?" Blew Harley in a white voice.

Her eyes landed on the only dark-haired of the quartet, observing him in all his seams.

Elrond, the tall happy man had called him Elrond. No matter what her rational subconscious told her that it could not be THE Elrond, she could not help but detail him with curiosity.

He was taller than her, clothed in precious silver-colored fabrics, highlighted by his raven-wing hair and his large lunar eyes. He had a smooth and beautiful face, bordering on perfection, and calm, ageless gaze. He returned her observation with the same curiosity borrowed from suspicion as if he feared that she would flee again.

The man behind him seemed to address a few words to him in that strange language that she did not know, and Harley was startled when he half turned his face.

"That can _not _be", she mumbled, pale as death, as her body unconsciously approached the dark-haired man. "Your ears…"

Thin, long, they merged in the stiff mass of his dark wicks, their clear point piercing the hair. Harley hiccupped in horror when her eyes turned to the ears of every man around her.

They had all pointy ears, like elves. They spoke an alien language that was fundamentally unknown to her and which accents didn't ring any bell to her. They carried arms, expressed themselves as in the 15th century, lived in an immaculate palace in a valley composed of forests and waterfall for miles around. They were all beautiful, as if unreal, so perfect that she felt like she was facing models of glossy paper under her eyes.

Horrified, she placed a hand on her mouth as her eyes sparkled with a glimmer of understanding.

"You… You are really… And I… Боже мой[3]," she swore in Bulgarian.  
"_Heryn nîn_[4]? All is well?" Feredir was worried, any pain forgotten in the face of the girl's distress.

Slowly, Harley's thin, pale fingers slipped among her emerald strands, looking for her lobes.

Her ears, after a theater course where the intervener had asked them to know their face to perfection, had no mystery for her. They were round, a little too small, slightly uprooted, covered with light moles. They were pierced with two holes for the earrings, a helix piercing on the left, and a tragus on the right. There was a little scar behind her right lobe, courtesy of her cat who bit when she was her baby.

The pulp of her fingers grazed her ears, counting the details and tracing their shapes. A strange sensation in the hollow of her belly grew as her hands followed a lobe that was _too_ _long_.

Her indexes caressed the sharp tips of her ears, while uncontrollable nausea made her fold in half.

"It's _not_ possible, it's not…" She babbled, searching the intriguing eyes of the four men for confirmation that she was hallucinating.

Her eyes hung up irises of ice color while the only one who had not opened his lips approached her with an imperious step.

He took the vial from the hands of Lord Elrond and knelt before this girl with weeping eyes, in such a state of distress that she did not even seem to have felt her fall to the ground. Without a word, he opened the vial and handed it to her.

"I do not know the reasons why you think we are not real, _wen_ Celfinnil," he just said, his voice sounding strangely in the thick silence that had settled and soothing somewhat the tremors of Harley, "but you are in Eä, and we are Eldars. Drink now."

Her cheeks were pale, soaked in cold tears, as Harley didn't struggle against him when he poured the liquid with a taste of vervain between her lips. She sank into unconsciousness, her younger brother's peaceful smile and laughing eyes haunting her mind as morbid guilt gripped her chest.

**o0o  
**_Run for your life!_

* * *

**[1] Prince Thranduil! I found the girl with green hair! - Sindarin (I'm a beginner in the elven grammar, so if there are mistakes, sorry!)**  
**[2] Stop! - Sindarin**  
**[3] My God - Google Translate's Bulgarian**  
**[4] My Lady - Sindarin**

**The reason why I'm trying to translate this story is that the next chapter came to me in English only, I couldn't write this story in French anymore, I can't (I don't know why though)**


	3. The gathering with the hot ones

**Okay, I **_**finally**_** found the original name of Vertbois-le-Grand, Oropher's kingdom! I'm sorry I got it wrong in the first place!**

**Answers: **

**Earthdragon****: Thank you so much for giving me these bits of information, you have no idea how confused I've been with the chronology of the Elves and you just gave me enough motivation to dig a little more (I have ADD and trust me when I say that it's a _lot _coming from me). I don't have the whole collection and the websites I found on the subject aren't as furnished as I hoped they would be. Plus, most of the stories I've read on **_**The Silmarillion**_** are funny ones or they don't really talk about this stuff… So, really, thank you!  
****Now, about Elrond's title… I decided to keep it "simple" at the beginning and to try thinking like a person who doesn't have the slightest idea **_**who**_** Elrond really is – like Harley does. But I intended on talking about it in this very chapter, don't worry.  
****And Arin's life is explained later in the story. I know it's a bit confusing, but I wanted Thranduil's mother to be alive – and she's 100% elvish, don't worry about that either.  
****I actually have a whole bunch of OCs with weird backgrounds in this story, and if one of them makes you really uncomfortable please don't hesitate to notify me.  
****(****A day after I wrote this****: **_**BIG NEWS! I found a website -very well hidden into the depths of Google- that has accurate intel about Middle Earth's history and explains it quite clearly, this is fantastic! I hope I won't make you frown again!)**_

* * *

_Between the lines of fear and blame  
You begin to wonder why you came_

_**How to save a life**_** – The Fray**

Harley had always been passionate about fantasy. Burlesque creations, full of fantasy, fascinated her. She adored when an artist let their ideas run free and gave birth to a fictional world of all beauty.

The girl was a fervent admirer of the author J.K Rowling, especially for her career, but also of Anne Robillard and her _Knights of Emerald_, the landscapes of Alagaësia by Christopher Paolini, Marvel's multiverse of possibilities. David had never understood why she was not a fan of Professor Tolkien, given her tastes.

In fact, she had always found the stories of Middle Earth more philosophical and poetic than anything else. They lacked action… and the movies never really seduced her either.

However, she could think and rework the problem in all directions in her mind, she still did not understand her situation.

"_Wen_ Harley, you must feed," whispered Haloisi near her for what seemed to be the hundredth time of the day.

The girl, her face turned towards the vastness of the Imladris valley, did not give him an ounce of attention.

Harley had few memories of her escape into the woods, except for the emotional tidal wave that brought her down to the ground. However, she remembered perfectly the Elves who had come to her aid and their participation in her realization.

It was a nightmare; it could _not_ be otherwise. Space-time travels were only workings of pure fiction. They did not exist and would probably never exist; science could not even prove the String Theory. Then how could it justify Harley's presence in a universe created from scratch?

Middle Earth did _not_ exist, it was simply… impossible.

"I don't understand," she finally breathed, attracting the whole attention of the elf -as well as his hope that she was giving in and finally going to feed. "It's just… incomprehensible…"  
"What are you talking about, _wen_ Harley?" Asked the blond elf, eyebrows frown.  
"You… aren't supposed to exist," mumbled Harley, not daring to look at him in the face. "Neither you, Haloisi nor this place and all the people who inhabit it. It's just completely… _crazy_! I don't _understand_!" She finally exclaimed; her eyes widened with disarray.

There was enough to go crazy! As much as she was fond of stories, she remained a minimum rational: they were only stories, nothing more!

So _how_? How could she be sitting right now in front of a forest covered with rivers and waterfalls, in an imaginary place? How could she logically end up with elven ears and sensory perceptions?

And, quite honestly, the second question she couldn't help wondering was: _why the holy hell did we pick her? _

As a good teenager fond of stories and magic with a phone and a good Internet connection, she knew the world of fanfiction very well. She was well aware that many young girls admired J.R.R Tolkien's universe and Peter Jackson's adaptations. It was also not uncommon for Dave to talk to her about a fanfiction where a heroine from another world was put forward.

So why, among those millions of fans who were just waiting for the opportunity to get a one-way ticket to Middle Earth, did Aiwë decide to make _her_ travel? Out of all of them? If the situation were real and not an invention of her mind, what darn reason was there to make her travel and metamorphose?

If she had to choose between two elven destinations, Ellesmera and the mighty Du Weldenvarden seemed much more familiar and pleasant…

Harley breathed a sigh and made small circles against her temples, hoping to calm the migraine that was starting to appear between her eyebrows. She did have one or two hypotheses to clarify the situation and to put a word on what she was, but she refused to say them out loud. It would only make things more real…

"Let's change the subject, okay?" She sighed before finally taking her courage with both hands and turning to the elf. "Sorry I knocked you out."  
"I quickly recovered, so do not trouble yourself," he smiled with an amused smile.  
"You are tougher than you look," she grinned.  
"I shall not dwell on those words, _wen_ Harley," grimaced the elf before sending a solar smile to the girl with green hair. "However, I do have one quick question—"

The girl turned completely to the elf, intrigued. She saw the tray of food that he had kindly placed on the small light wooden bedside table near her bed and had a tender smile.

It's been two days since she swallowed much, her mind too busy. Yet he had not stopped coming every hour of the day and evening to force her to feed herself. So, yes, it was certainly normal, given that he was, in a way, her personal nurse, but still, the little gesture made her warm to her heart…

Especially when we were thinking about the treatment that Harley and her dreadful chamber pot had put him through.

The young Norman seized a piece of bread spread with fruit jellies, which drew a happy smile to Haloisi. She laughed at him, and bit at her breakfast, leaving the cup of steaming tea for a glass of milk. She missed coffee…

"Are you planning on asking someday?" She asked, amused by the palpable relief in the blondie's attitude.  
"Although I am well aware that your world of origin is at the opposite end of our own," he started after a short hesitation, "I do have some curiosities about your appearances."  
"Extrapolate?" She was intrigued, raising an eyebrow before licking her sticky fingers.  
"I simply cannot understand how you could have dyed your hair in this way," he explained before biting his lip. "I am quite familiar with some of the practices that some Northerners have in blonding their hair, but I must admit that I am puzzled by the hue that some say you wear."

Harley slowly chewed her plum tartine, savoring the exquisite sweet and tangy flavors of the fruit reduced to jelly.

To be clearer, this very dear Haloisi had heard the sounds of the corridor on the head hairs of green color of the young Norman, not being able to perceive it decently from himself. His handler had to stumble since the day before, at least, because Harley remembered perfectly an awkward moment when he grazed her emerald wicks. Stunned, the girl had let herself go before straying and plunging back into her thoughts.

Harley deeply inspired and conscientiously wiped her fingers, searching for her words.

"You need to understand, Haloisi," she began, her eyes fixed on the flight of a swallow in the distance. "My world's developed its science and technology to a point where, with all due respect, I find your world to be… _primary_ in comparison."  
"Would you be insinuating that we are slow, _wen_ Harley?" The blind-eyed elf grinned to relax the atmosphere.  
"I'm _insinuating_ nothing, Haloisi," she mocked, putting her dress back on her lap. "I'm sayin' it out loud. I don't understand why you're so… delayed on scientific discoveries," sighed the girl. "You Elves are many centuries old, many _millennia_ old, and yet I'm sure that almost _nothing_ evolved in a thousand years."

Haloisi, whose mother had experienced the tragedy that brought down the beautiful Gondolin, had been born a few thousand four hundred springs earlier. And although he felt a touch of vexation in his heart for the criticism inflicted on his world as well as an enlarged curiosity towards that of the young _elleth_, he had to admit that, somewhere, she was right.

Harley ended up returning weapons and swallowed a sip of tea, pleasantly surprised by its delicate flavor.

"To give you an idea what I mean by 'delayed'," she resumed after a few sips that warmed her up, "My country has only taken about two and a half centuries to develop to the point where we're able to travel to the moon."  
"Now I know you are jesting, _wen_ Harley," nervously laughed the elf. "Such a prodigy cannot be achieved without the help of magic…"  
"I get that it sounds fake to you," smiled the young Norman, "but it's the truth. It's a long, dangerous process that needs special training and physical and mental abilities I don't have. It's expensive, rare and not perfect, 'cause keep in mind that for Men _everything can be improved,_ but it's possible."

Her gaze lost somewhere beyond a waterfall with a thousand rainbow reflections, Harley thought again of her family, left behind.

Her mother, Madame Alexandra Dore, used to work for a laboratory in an observatory that had an astronomical telescope. When she and David were younger and came to spend a few days at their mom's job during the holidays, her colleagues made them discover a thousand and one wonders of science. Dave could spend hours glued to the astronomical telescope and collected child-friendly books on stars, cosmos, and planets.

Harley now remembered accurately those happy days, the softer traits of her parents while their children had not yet passed the stage of adolescence. For that alone, she was almost thrilled with her metamorphosis.

Almost.

Because you shouldn't push Baba into the dandelions.

If she was happy to know that there were indeed parallel worlds filled with magic and Elves, and grateful to have been able to remember her early childhood until her first year, she did _not _intend to leave her luggage in Eä, thank you very much.

All the difficulty of her situation now resided in the realization of the reverse journey… and of a potential survival to the said space-time passage.

**o0o  
**_Where did I go wrong?  
__I lost a friend  
_**o0o**

Harley missed her not-so-little brother dearly.

David had always been the calm, cunning and poised one, able to find his way out of every tricky situation possible. He was also strong for he had played rugby for quite some time now and was as charming as a 'gentle-boy' could be.

And most importantly: he had quite an impressive knowledge of Middle Earth, its historical background and time-lapses.

Unlike Harley, who gladly admitted that she was completely disturbed and a bit disgruntled by the idea of being in the same room as two supposed-to-be-eating-daisies-from-the-roots elven kings. Elven kings who were, besides, very much to her taste.

There were actually several other people in the room, but as far as Harley could tell, neither Galadriel nor Celeborn were supposed to be long-dead – plus, they were married –, Elrond was supposed to have a daughter with some elf-girl, and the last ones were…

Okay, fine, she admitted it: one of them was super handsome, but he seemed as welcoming as a Norwegian tundra, and the other two were weird.

Of course, they were not physically weird, since they were _elves_ and she seriously doubted that an _elf_ could possibly look odd. But… The tallest one was endlessly grinning and silently cackling to some unspoken joke he was the only one able to hear or understand – Harley frowned when she realized that _maybe_ he was laughing at _her_.

And the other one still had a yellowish bruise all over his cheekbones from the headbutt she gave to him some days ago. So, okay, he wasn't weird _at all_, unlike his gigantic golden-haired friend who was _still_ laughing at her, but eh.

It felt weird to check out someone you had somehow aggressed.

"Oh _boy_, this is gonna take _for-ever_, isn't it?" She whispered not so quietly, already bored by the heavy silence that no one dared to break.

Yes, that was quite impolite. But, eh, she had other concerns on her mind than a darn elvish reunion that took an eternity to even _begin_. Like, maybe, the fact that she needed to find a way out of this world before – preferably – turning mental.

Apparently, everyone had been so startled – or amused, in the Tall Merry Blond's case – by her words to react. She let out another deep, annoyed and profoundly insulting sigh.

"Okay, I guess that's my turn to outshine you all with my _marvelous_ wit", she grinned, fidgeting on her seat with unease. "And you guys do _not_ wanna know what 'wit' can stand for in my world", she cackled at the remembrance of the Ravenclaw's devise being an actual dick-joke. "Anyway, the name's Harley. Harley Faustine Marie-Jeanne Dore. Yes, that's an awfully lengthy name, but eh, I'm French and we French folks like lengthy titles. I'm seventeen by Mankind standards, and since we're considered mature at eighteen, I'm almost an adult – in a manner of speaking, 'course."

Ah, yeah, that was it: she finally unleashed the talkative monster she truly was.

That was one of the most bizarre things about Harley: she was not really fond of social interactions and had just a few friends, but she absolutely _loved_ to talk. She liked it to the point where she would often speak to herself out loud and without the slightest amount of shame.

And apparently, the Elves were about to realize what an actual chat-box she was. Harley's grin grew wider as she discerned a little spark of uneasiness at her speech-skills in the eyes of the Undead Kings.

"Y'know, you should _really_ ask me to stop _right now_, 'cause I'm pretty sure I'll be able to continue like this for a while. And I mean _a while_. Once, I spent nineteen hours speaking, literally, and my lil' brother was _this_ close to sewing my lips together." She smiled tenderly at the remembrance of David.  
"Nineteen hours? Really?"

Harley's eyes darted into Tall Merry Blond's crystal blue irises and her smile became a little more… foxy. Ah, _finally_! Someone had spoken!

"Yes, nineteen, it's been recorded all along by my folks. They dared me to last longer than my dad. But eh, the man had an entire existence of practice behind him, so it wasn't super fair. The legend says that he once spoke for a day and an hour non-stop," she mused, now 100% focused on the only elf that dared respond to her.  
"Does that mean that you will answer every question we will ask you?" The guy with the broken nose questioned, slightly amused by the uncanny lady.  
"Why? 'Cause y'all expected me to hide something from you?" Harley snarled and waved in the general direction of Lady Galadriel. "This one over there could probably tell you what color of panties I wore the first time I went to the zoo by digging in my memories without my consent, so what's the point?"

Harley had not yet found the courage to face the Lady of Lórien in the eyes, for she was far more enchanting in appearances than she thought she would have been.

They were _all_ absolute marvels of beauty, each in their own way.

King Oropher was the very image of a White Knight, with his long silvery hair, his lunar complexion and his eyes so fiercely clear that she thought they were _white_ – until she found a slight sapphire reflection in his gaze when he turned to the light.

And His Majesty the High King Gîl-Galad? He had long silky ravenous hair that was even darker than Elrond's and fell on his broad shoulders like _nightfall_. His eyes were bright stars, glimmering with wisdom and royalty. His high and fair cheekbones were underlined by his branches-like golden crown.

Feredir and Elrond were among the sexiest people she'd ever seen – and yes, it was a little disturbing since she'd always pictured Elrond as old and kind of _non-elvish_ to her taste, thanks to Hugo Weaving's casting. But that had already been established, so, eh, _whatever_.

Tall Merry Blond Guy and Ice-Cold Princess Elf were downright _panty-soakers_, to be fairly honest.

The first one was the tallest in the room – and _that_ was saying something. He looked like the human form – or elvish – of an actual ray of sunshine, with his thick golden locks that fell on his large biceps imprisoned in a shirt slightly too tight. His complexion was more honeyed than the others, which made his sky-blue eyes glow like actual jewels. She knew for a fact that he had the Mighty 10.000 Watts Colgate Smile, which _blinded_ her a little at first.

And the last one? _Oh boy_, was she absolutely ravished by the mere fact that he had the most perfect, fair and angelic face of all... His eyes were of the deepest royal blue she'd ever witnessed, sparkling with curiosity towards her and framed by dark, thick lashes. His hair was of large, platinum blonde locks that seemed to glow in the sunlight, falling on his muscled shoulders like streams of pure silk. And his hands, Great Gods, were large, blessed with long yet powerful fingers that looked like they could both crush a mountain or hold shattering glass with great tenderness.

Yes, she had a _thing_ for nice hands.

The thing was, she was terrified of looking at Galadriel and immediately collapse into a pool of drool. Cate Blanchett was one of the first actresses that made her doubt her straightness and to think that the actual Elven Lady could be more charming than Cate fucking Blanchett made Harley terribly uncomfortable.

So, yeah, that was _definitely_ a no-no.

"Oh _dear_" chuckled the said Lady to Harley's utter horror.

Okay, so her voice sounded like an actual magical being from the fairy tales of her world. _That _was bad, terribly bad. If her _voice_ sounded like this, her face must be worthy of Queen Titania of the Faëries'.

Wait a minute. _Why_ was Lady Galadriel chuckling?

"Please, Lady, do _not_ tell me you've heard my thoughts" Harley whispered, her face burning like wildfire.  
"I shall not lie, my dear, for I am no trickster," Galadriel answered softly, a smile in her marvelous voice. "However, you should not feel bashful for those sweet words. You possess a mind full of wonders and poetic metaphors, though quite unusual. Nevertheless, I must admit you have intrigued my interest: what is a 'Mighty 10.000 Watts Colgate Smile'?"

Harley chuckled her face as red as bell pepper. Luckily, the others in the room remained quiet, silently observing the now timid green-haired _elleth_ and her odd behavior.

"It's a gift from the gods to the mortals who possess weak hearts, Lady," Harley grinned mischievously. "Though its bearer needs to have the face of an angel too, otherwise its impact is… lessened."  
"Such a powerful thing indeed," the Lady sighed in amusement. "Now, dear, could you please tell these lost souls how you happen to be in our realm?"

If only Harley had known _how_, indeed, she could be exchanging private jokes with a darn Elven Lady in another – fictional and definitely _not_ supposed to be real – world. It felt weird, being in front of people that only existed between the pages of a book.

Even though Harley knew – thanks to her fanboy of a brother – that most of the elves in the room were legendary people among their own kind, she just could _not_ realize it.

Of course, she had some respect for them. After all, they were all _very_ _much_ older than her, and a lot wiser as well. And gorgeous, but that was something else. Nonetheless, even if they were Kings, Princes, Lords, and Ladies, she felt at ease, like an equal.

Harley grew up in a country where the royal family had been murdered publicly by the very people of the kingdom some two-three hundreds of years ago. So, yeah, she was not so much intimidated by their ranks – but their good-looks, their powers, and their persisting silence were kind of making her feel awkward.

"Seriously, you guys are _no_ fun," she mumbled, sick of the atmosphere. "Being silent like that, it's not cool for my nerves I swear." She let out a deep sigh and crossed her legs and arms, staring at the window through which were shining sunlight. "I have literally no idea how I ended up here. Well, that's not entirely true: I know bits and pieces, but they're not… rational ones. Scientifically, I'm pretty sure that traveling through universes is not possible."  
"I assume there was magic involved," Ice Princess-Elf with The Deadly Hot Hands said, and Harley darted her eyes into his own.  
"The very concept of _magic_ actually _existing_ is still kinda hard to deal with, dude," she retorted. "There's no magician, no elf, no dwarf, not even _unicorns_ in my world. Just plain old Mankind and technology. _Real_ technology."  
"What are unicorns?"  
"Magical and beautiful horses with a magical horn in the middle of their head, like this," Harley mimicked the horn by pointing her index from the middle of her forehead and felt kind of ridiculous doing so. "They obviously don't exist. Anyway, 'guess you're right, Mr. Charming Ice-Cube. There must be magic involved. Don't count on me to know what kind of spell brought little old me here, all I know is that I drank some kind of tea from a weird blue-haired girl and that I was _this_ close to dying in a motorcycle accident."

Obviously, none of them knew what a motorcycle was. However, they did understand that Harley had been brought in Eä by someone and that someone had probably the power to get her back into her world.

"The woman with blue hair," Elrond said, "did she say how she was called?"  
"Aiwë, her name's Aiwë."  
"Are you absolutely certain?" The High King asked, to her great surprise – he looked pretty determined in staying silent until his dying day.  
"Yup, 100% sure, she told me it was Aiwë."  
"That is a name from our realm, _wen_ Celfinnil," King Oropher explained, his gaze lost deep in wonder. "It is the name of a particular species of a little bluebird. I believe we do have some flocks of them near Emyn Duir, Thranduil."

Now, _that _name rang a bell. Harley frowned and her eyes met Mr. Charming Ice-Cube's as he addressed a thin smile to the king. Her eyes traveled back and forth between the two elves before she got dumbstruck.

Sugar Honey Iced Tea.

No wonder where he'd got that angelic good look of his! King Oropher, the guy who looked like an actual archangel among mortal – or immortal, in that particular case – beings, was his Daddy Dearest!

Then, a realization hit her once more: _Thranduil_?

"Oh _boy_," she smirked, "Dave's face when I'll tell him I met the very guy who's been his tissue-soaker for years!"  
"And what would you be meaning by such a nickname, _wen_ Celfinnil?"  
"Trust me, buddy, you _don't_ wanna know."

Okay, it sounded both creepy and super gross that Harley knew about her brother's kinks and 'midnight activities'.

However, she _did_ share a room with him for years now and was not ashamed to say that they had an agreement about that. The rules were simple: _don't be seen or heard, clean after, stay discreet about it and please, _please_, remember that I'm your sister, not your buddy, I do _not_ need to hear about it more than necessary_. Also, since their parents died too soon, and their Baba being who she is, Harley was the one who had to have The Talk with him a few years ago.

"I did notice that fact when you reacted upon hearing my very name, _wen _Celfinnil,' Elrond spoke in a curious tone. "Given that you are from another realm that is far from being similar to ours, how could you possibly recon Prince Thranduil's name or mine?"  
"Simple: my lil' brother is a big fan of Middle Earth" she grinned. "In my world, you guys are all characters from a darn fictional universe created by J.R.R Tolkien. He wrote some book series about your history, and Dave read them all. _But_," she pursued in a louder tone as they tensed up, "I _didn't_. It's long, boring and complicated. I know bits and pieces from what I heard David babble and I will _not_ share them with you, 'cause let's be honest: what would it change anyway?"  
"I assume that is a question we could only answer if we had acknowledged the depth of those said, 'bits and pieces'", Celeborn's voice said from where he sat beside his wife.  
"You _won't_."

Harley's sentence sounded final. And it was: she would never betray her brother's trust in her skills at being a good fanfiction character, even if she would soon be home.

Harley was far from being a fool, contrary to what one might think. She had read tons of fanfictions herself on several fandoms, and it was an implicit rule that the character who knew more than the others needed to shut the heck up in order to keep things cool. Plus, if she told them the very few things she knew, like the kings' death, they were most likely to try and prevent them from happening. Multiple things would be disturbed then, to the point where nothing would be the same as the original story anymore.

The snowball effect was a terrible thing that must be avoided at all costs. The kings were supposed to die anyway, it wasn't like she was going to murder them on spot herself.

"That is a wise decision, _wen_ Celfinnil," King Oropher approved with a slight nod.  
"Probably. I'm not gonna be around long enough to see if anything really happens anyway," she grinned widely.  
"Have you found a way back to your homeland yet?"  
"Nah, not yet. But I really need to get back to my brother."

While some remained still and – as predicted – silent, others nodded with compassion and comprehension.

Harley had to admit it: it had been one weird council. Not quite as strange as the last rugby team's party after the end of the sports season though, but kind of very much odd, nonetheless. She chuckled discreetly: nothing could ever top the bizarrerie of that party.

**o0o  
**_Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And I would have stayed up with you all night  
_**o0o**

The room was beautiful.

Obviously, the main shade was clear white, though it did not disturb Harley: it was a temporary solution, after all. The tile floor was of a creamy color that married well with the light wood of the furniture. The high ogive windows were veiled of diaphanous curtains to preserve her intimacy.

If she did not have a balcony, she had been blessed by the best view of all from the wide window of the bathroom: it was facing a huge waterfall crowned with pine trees.

"Okay, this room's _great_!" She cried with joy as she took a deep breath of the pure atmosphere. "Perfect for isolated research!"

There was a delicate knock on the door that she had left open. The quiet maid who had guided her towards her chambers was gone, however, a very familiar face was now smiling at her. She let out a small chuckle: _of course,_ he was going to visit her.

"It pleases me to hear such impatience in your voice, _wen_ Celfinnil," Haloisi grinned while entering her room.  
"Don't get me wrong, dude, you guys are great people," she smirked softly. "But I'm dying to see my little brother and I would kill to smoke some cancer-pop! Ah, cigarettes, dearly beloved cigarettes, how I miss you!"  
"I have something for you, _wen _Celfinnil. Lord Elrond trusted me into delivering this to you."

Intrigued, Harley watched him carefully as he was pulling something out of his back. A high-pitched screech escaped from her lips as her eyes laid upon the most precious of gifts:

"_My bag_!"

Haloisi, whose hearing capacities were much more developed than any other elf due to his blindness, winced in pain. She shot him a vague 'sorry bro' before opening greedily the zipper of her backpack.

"Oh _man_, that's the good stuff!" She smirked when she saw two bras and multiple packs of cigarettes. "Thanks a lot, dude! You have _no_ _idea_ how much I craved a good smoking session!" Saying so, she skillfully opened one of the packs and grabbed a white stick. "Darn, I think my lighter stayed in my leather's pocket!"

Smoking had to wait, unfortunately.

Harley let Haloisi take place at her newly obtained desk and they spoke for some time since he was the person she was closest to in this world. She was secretly baffled by his ability to move in a room in such a natural way even though he was completely blind.

"You know, Haloisi," she said after some quiet moments, "I've questions too for you. Would'ya answer them?"  
"But of course, I will, _wen _Celfinnil. It is only but natural of you to wonder about our realm, given your… foreigner origins."  
"Great, thanks! So, um… Could you tell me what day of which year of which… _err_, Age we are?"  
"You arrived on the 21st night of Lairë, you stayed ill in the Houses for two days before your first awakening, then two days after until this very morning: we are the 26th of Lairë of the 3.408th year of the Second Age."

Which month corresponded to 'Lairë'? Harley remembered the party celebrating everyone's high school diploma and the day after, the 2nd and the 3rd of July, but she was completely unable to tell if her arrival into Middle Earth took hours, days or months.

Anyway, that wasn't what she was looking for: Haloisi said it was the Second Age and both Oropher and Gîl-Galad were alive. If she remembered correctly – because she kind of dozed off somewhere between Galadriel's speech and Frodo's departure from the Shire –, Bilbo said in the first movie of _The Lord of The Rings _something like 'Third Age of this world'.

It finally occurred to her: the first great war against Sauron hadn't even _begun_, in which case the general ambiance between the elven peoples would a lot darker and sadder.

"Haloisi, my pal, I _really_ need to get home before things get fucked up," she whispered in a breath.  
"This language of yours really is quite… unpleasant, _wen_ Celfinnil."  
"Yeah, I know, sorry but I'm from the 21st century in a modern and not feudal world where curtesy died a long time ago with the beheading of the royal family," she chuckled. "French people used to be downright _savages_; I know."

Haloisi gasped in shock upon hearing such a barbaric but historical fact. Harley smirked and decided not to tell him the whole story of France just now: the poor darling might have nightmares.

"That's a story for another time, pal. Anyway, next question: who's the leader of the place? 'Cause I'm kinda lost between all of those kings and lords and ladies, y' know."  
"His Majesty the King Oropher reigns over the Woodland Realm, in the forest of Greenwood the Great, beyond the Misty Mountains and the Anduin river. His Highness the King Gîl-Galad rules over Lindon, a region west of the Blue Mountains and divided into two regions by the Gulf of Lune. You have not yet encountered His Grace the King Amdír, ruler of the Golden Woods of Lothlórien, but he accompanied the Kings Oropher and Gîl-Galad and their knights the night you were saved."

Harley remained silent, mostly because she didn't expect him to give a little geographical course along with his explanations. Plus, the only map of Middle Earth she had seen was her brother's phone's lock screen, and most of the information Haloisi gave her stayed blurry in her mind.

Nevertheless, she had been surprised by the last fact he had told her: weren't Celeborn and Galadriel supposed to be the leaders of Lórien?

"Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel live in the harbor Edhellond, in the South of Gondor, the kingdom of the Brother-Kings Isildur and Anárion, sons of King Elendil."

Oh, okay. So, they weren't the leaders of Lórien _yet_, she guessed.

"Now, I believe that you were asking who oversees our dear and peaceful Imladris?"  
"Yeah, kind of. I mean, I guess that it'd be Gîl-Galad since he's kind of the 'High King' or somethin'…"

Haloisi blinked once, then let out a soft chuckle that Harley was far from expecting – he was a little more talkative than the others, yes, but still a silent elf.

"I suppose you will be needing some… teaching, given your rather poor knowledge of our realm," he laughed calmly. "I understand that you are quite eager to returning home, however, you will need to learn some things in order not to… insult any lords."  
"Yeah, I suppose you're right," she grinned.  
"I am quite certain that I am, indeed, right," he replied in a smirk. "The Lord of Imladris is Sire Elrond, son of Eärendil, a descendant of Elwë and vice-regent of Eriador."

Harley's eyes widened in astonishment. Though she did not know how Elrond's ancestors were important in Eä's history, she understood quite clearly that he was far from being 'just some wise guy with healing powers' as she first thought.

Dang, she should have paid more attention to Dave's monologues.

"Okay… Wait, that's weird: why are they all here? I mean, I don't know a single thing about your geography, but I get that they live kinda far away, right? So, what are they doin' here?" She crossed her fingers, hoping that it wasn't for some sort of war council that would be ringing the beginning of the Sauron Shitty Subject.  
"By these times of peace, we gather upon every celebration each year the Valar gift us. We were feasting for the summer solstice the very night you appeared," he smiled gently.

So, Lairë was June. Good to know. And they were happy enough to celebrate but also aware of some sort of danger, which forced them to make the most of those 'peaceful times' by gathering in numbers every time they celebrated.

Perfect.

Haloisi knew something was wrong with his patient the very moment he noticed how _fast_ and _loud _her heartbeat was. Her breath shortened and he heard clear sounds of fidgeting, such as cloth-noises. The scent of tears invaded his sensitive nostrils as soft sobs began to invade the silence.

Slowly, he went in the direction of the noises and kneeled before her when he felt the heat from her body. Remaining as gentle and calm as he could, he searched for her hands – they were shaking and a little humid with sweat.

"_Wen_ Celfinnil," he whispered softly, "I need you to take a deep breath in order to calm down. I am not going anywhere, do not fret. You are safe."

Harley could hear the elf's words perfectly, but her brain was so filled with terror about the upcoming events, and upon the horrifying realization that it was so much easier for her to _die_ in this world, that she couldn't understand them.

Her lips were trembling and wet from her biting and licking. She felt cold along her spine and her shoulders were shivering.

The elves were not as peaceful as they appeared to be. They were stressed, almost on edge, and she abruptly remembered how many soldiers she had seen in the hallways and the gardens: hundreds, probably thousands. Her brother had always told her about Imladris and the constant singing of the elves: she hadn't heard a single music note since her awakening.

All of a sudden, she was struck a brutal realization: the 'council' she had to meet was not silent because the elves were quiet people, they were actually known to be quite curious and making poetry _all the time_ – said her brother.

They were all tensed up and suspicious, they were _observing_ her.

Oh, Great Gods. The fight was near, the atmosphere was heavy with calm preparation of war – and she arrived with the worst timing of all, like a cherry on top of a cake.

"I'm gonna _die_," she whined, her throat tightened by emotions. "Or I'm dead. I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, we're all gonna…"

Her eyes widened and her words stayed unspoken.

Dying. That was the solution. She crossed the barrier between their worlds by _dying_ in a motorcycle accident, right?

She got on her feet so quickly, her head got a little dizzy. But she didn't care, nor noticed it, and she ran straight to her bathroom. The window was there, without glass nor wood curtains to stop her.

She took a breath, full of expectation, and jumped.

**o0o  
**_Had I known how to save a life_

* * *

**So, as I said before while replying to Guest - Earthdragon, I'm kind of lost with the elvish genealogy and the chronology can be a little confusing for me as well (yeah, I wasn't the best student of all in history classes). BUT! I've been trying to learn the most things as humanly possible and to remember the things I've read and learned (trust me, it's hard when you struggle with ADD - you know, ADHD without Hyperactivity? Is it the correct translation? Anyway), and I intend on making the most accurate - and still funny and a bit odd - story possible.**

**I love creating OCs, but I love accuracy as well, so please tell me when one's story makes you especially uncomfortable. **


	4. She almost dies a second time

**Answers:**

**Guest (**_**received the 14/01/2020 and probably also the one from the 17/01/2020**_**):**** Thank you! I love little positive reviews; they make me feel so dorkily proud aww! I really am glad that you like my story, and I hope the next ones will be up to your expectations! **

**Guys, I checked the traffic graph, because I kind of got used to Wattpad's way and was a little curious, and wow! I only started to post, like, a week ago and you're already so many! Thank you, pals! **

**Aww, thank you so damn much for following this story as well! **

**For the curious ones, you may discover my very own novel on Wattpad under the username **_**AutomnalRainbow**_** (it's in French, but who knows? Maybe some of you are curious/learning/bilingual?)**

**Anyway, hope you'll like this one!**

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_I'm sending a raven  
__Black bird in the sky  
__Sending a signal that I'm here  
__Some sign of life_

_**Far From Home (The Raven)**_** – Sam Tinnesz**

At last, after days of struggling with her own self, she felt… at peace.

Peace in her mind, as all her anxious thoughts and fearsome ideas, vanished the very moment the wind slashed her body and clothes. Peace in her whole being, then, as she finally closed her eyelids with joy – she was going to see David again.

Shortly after, she experienced a much unpleasant situation: she had been thrown against a hard and cold floor, and someone was shouting their lungs out in her thumping eardrums.

"OF ALL THE RECKLESS DIMWITS IN THE UNIVERSES, I _HAD_ TO FALL UPON THE MOST _MORONIC_ SUICIDAL TWEEB!"

Harley winced in pain as the thundering voice provoked waves of pain into her skull. Her fingers reached for her temples in order to massage them in small circles, and her thumbs caressed her earlobes in doing so.

Her entire body seemed to freeze.

"No," she whispered as her indexes touched her ears – long, thin and still much _pointy_ ears. "No, no, no, no! NO!"  
"YES! You still are on a very _elvish_ land and trust me you're not leaving it until I say so!" The angry voice shouted back.  
"How could you!"

Harley's eyes were now wide open and filled with rage as they laid upon the person that was yelling at her: dear old Aiwë.

She seemed a little different from the last time she had seen her. She wore a gown of precious silver cloth and a white circlet glimmering with blue jewels. Her skin emitted some sort of pure aura and her eyes were full of starry colorful galaxies.

The tensed silence that fell upon the two women broke as Aiwë let out a small and somehow sarcastic chuckle.

"How could I _what_? Save your life?" She snarled; her fists clenched. "How could I save you from your horrible grandmother and your oblivious selfish brother? Or your so-called friends that were all thinking so little of you? Oh, _yeah_, how could I _possibly_ do that to you!"  
"You didn't save me!" Harley shouted, not bothered by the presence of Haloisi near the door of her room or the fact that all Imladris could probably hear them. "You sent me away in an alien universe without my _fucking_ consent, you _wench_!"  
"How dare you insult me, you insufferable powerless little lab _rat_!"

The light coming from Aiwë seemed to grow stronger as her anger deepened, and Harley frowned a little. She clenched her jaw, refusing to lower her eyes from Aiwë's cosmical, yet furious, stare.

"So, _that_'s how it is then? I'm a bloody experiment?" She spat out. "Have you ever considered the fact that I _might_ _not_ want to go? That I'd prefer to live a life of lies and pain than to be torn away from my brother!"

Her shoulders shivered at the thought of David's smile and the fact that he must be worried sick by her long absence. With trembling eyelids and a frowning mouth, she raised her chin and glared into the depths of Aiwë's eyes.

"Tell me, missy birdie, how would _you_ have reacted if a total stranger sent you into a universe you know barely how to survive into? If they used _magic_, a concept your world doesn't understand and bloody _fears_ since it's not supposed to be real? If they…" Her voice broke as tears began to roll down her pale cheeks. "If they made you feel like an alien in your very homeland with said magic? Because, _yes_, don't think for a _single_ _second_ I didn't understand that all those weird events were tricks from you, Bird-girl," she hissed venomously. "What would you be feeling if you realized that you had very high chances to die if you walked out of the place? If you were told your _brother_…" She swallowed saliva as her eyes lost themselves in vagueness and her knees started to shake. Her voice had become a slight whisper when she pursued: "If you were told your brother were billions of light-years from you, or even more – dimensions, realities _away_ from you…"

Her deep aventurine irises darted again into the colorful stars and nebulas of Aiwë's stare, filled with diamonds of tears.

"Tell me, Aiwë, how would you have reacted to such despair?"

Quietly, ignoring both presences in her room, she avoided the blue-haired woman's silhouette and went for her bed. Still fully dressed in an elvish pink gown and wearing some sort of grey ballet flats, she let herself down into the clean sheets that smelled like flowers.

She was just so… tired.

All of a sudden, her energy had been sucked away by everything that had happened during the last few days, and she was now craving a silent, peaceful and dreamless night.

Ah, yes, please, she almost prayed for her slumber not to be filled with delusions. She did not want to wake up in heartache by the memory of David's laughter, Valentine's warmth as she hugged her for her birthday or the smell of dust in her Baba's shop. Not another night of that mind torture, please.

She did not see Aiwë move, for she had closed her eyelids as soon as tears had started to go down her face again. However, she did feel the mattress move under the weight of another body, and the ice-cold fingers in her hair.

Moments after, the door opened and closed behind Haloisi, who was most likely to reassure Rivendell's elves about the situation.

"I would have been crushed, and down, and furious, and desperate to find a way home," Aiwë's voice murmured so softly that Harley had to take a moment to acknowledge the fact she was speaking. "I'd have hated everything and every person I saw, and I'd probably try to get revenge."

The fingers had begun to braid her emerald locks into thin and multiple little tresses that had no pattern.

Harley opened her eyes slowly, her chin trembling, and kept her gaze focused on the veils on her windows. Beyond the glass, the sun was shining brightly and made everything glimmer in golden reflections. She could hear the waterfall roaring in her back, and the wind whispering delicately in the trees' branches.

"I don't hate it _all_," she muttered in a shattered voice.

"Then you are stronger than I am."

The once-human girl moved her eyes to meet Aiwë's, and her face softened a little upon the tender look she was receiving.

As odd as it could seem, the blue-haired entity was the most familiar face she'd seen in days. Plus, it was nice to hear some good old French, not a 19th century-inspired, a mannered and elaborate language that sort of sounded like hers. And Aiwë was not as poised as the elven people she had met, she let her emotions flow on her face like actual make-up.

And that made her feel more comfortable in this foreign world than ever.

"I still need answers, Bird-girl," she said in her very thin smile.  
"And I shall give them to you," Aiwë chuckled, "as long as I'm _allowed_ to, of course."

Harley frowned a little, but now that she was thinking about it…

Making a person space-travel, even in a land of magic, must be something huge and dangerous. And Aiwë, even though she seemed to be quite powerful and old, still looked a little too… Well, _unfit_ for great decisions like those.

Of course, Harley didn't know how much Aiwë could accomplish, but she kind of felt like there were people above her, like her bosses or something. When she talked with Haloisi, he said a name that sounded sort of familiar, like something she had heard David say but didn't pay attention to…

"What was it… Fal… Val– ar?"  
"Oh, you've already heard of them?"  
"Not really," Harley frowned. "Haloisi mentioned them once, and Dave might've said one or two things on them too. So, they're your bosses, those Valars?"  
"Ah," Aiwë chuckle gently. "The '-r' is a mark of plurality, we say a Vala."  
"Sorry, still learning."  
"Nah, no biggie! Anyway, yeah, they're the big bosses here, they make the decisions and give the orders. And the creator of all is called Eru Ilúvatar, but… Let's say nobody's heard from him in a long, _long_ time."

Harley frowned and added a name on top of the Valar's in her mental notes. If she was to stay around a little longer than planned, she might need to write down as much information as possible to keep track.

Great Gods, this world was such a pain… It was complicated, way much older than her own civilization – sort of – and highly _feudal_.

"Fork, I've always _hated_ the Middle-Ages and paternalism," she groaned as she finally sat on her sheets. "Okay, then, tell me: what are you?"

Aiwë, who started twisting and braiding her emerald hair again, froze. Harley raised a brow and turned _slightly_ to face her – she still had some of her hair in her hands, she wasn't a big fan of capillary accidents.

Aiwë wore an odd grimace, her lips frowning and her eyes focusing on the ground like it had insulted her in a very imaginative and bizarre way. Her left eyebrow twitched, and her lips took a sort of sassy and disgusted fold. Her eyelids creased; her teeth started to munch on her inner lower lip.

Harley blinked in disbelief.

"Wait, you're not sure?" She blurted out, astonished.  
"Well, I'm some kind of a Maia, _that's_ for sure," Aiwë in a slight grin. "But I don't know… I'm not sayin' that I'm special or whatever, but eh, have you seen the eyes?"

She pointed sarcastically at her own cosmical irises, an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth raised. Harley let out a little chuckle.

"I'm the only one with eyes like those, and I'm the only one who can travel back and forth universes. So, yeah, pride put apart, I _am_ a special Maia."  
"Trust you on that," Harley grinned. "I still have no idea what a Maia is."  
"Oh, right, sorry. We are… Sort of… Angels? You know, powerful warriors of the higher forces? Feathers were just too fancy and a fashion faux-pas."

Harley blinked again and a soft laugh blurted out her lips. She smiled weakly and licked her lips, her eyes widened. She moved imperceptibly away from the blue-haired woman; her brows were so high on her forehead her skin wrinkled.

"_What_?"  
"Oh, right, you come from a Christian family, sorry, I forgot," Aiwë frowned again and she seemed a little bashful.  
"No, no, no! I mean, _yes_, Baba is extremely Christian though I have no idea which belief she's into – probably Protestant? Anyway, Maman and Papa raised me as an atheist, I respect religions and I'm super curious about them but I'm not really into a commitment to holy people, _however_ –"

Her eyes darted into Aiwë's, completely unaware of the surprised laughter the blue-haired girl had let out when she began to vomit words.

"An _angel_? I'm sorry, but I've never seen a feathered chubby little baby with blue hair and magical tea – though I've never _seen_ an angel before. I'm not shocked 'cause of my beliefs or anything, I'm surprised 'cause I thought you were some kind of… a weird witch that loves to mess with people's lives for the sake of fun?"  
"Don't get me wrong, I _love_ to mess with people's lives, and I _have_ magical tea stored in a little cottage in the woods back in Valinor," Aiwë snickered while patting Harley's biceps. "But I'm not a bad guy, the name's not Billie Eilish, sweetheart."

Harley laughed again: _that_ was an unexpected comeback!

Ah, she had missed this, talking about music and references that would actually be understood and not politely nodded away. It was nice of the elves not to treat her like a total psycho when she talked about things from her world, but none of them would smile nor ask questions – talking about home would have been sort of comforting.

"Anyway, I'm powerful, but my skills are nowhere near what my bosses can do, trust me," Aiwë pursued as she resumed her braiding in Harley's hair. "I've seen them do crazy things, they're like… super-powerful and godly-gorgeous beings."  
"Dang, I wanna meet them now!"  
"Eh, maybe someday they'll come down to tell you to shut your cakehole 'cause they can't sleep anymore!"  
"Strangely, I can picture that _vividly_," Harley cackled. "Now, can you tell me more? Like, why am I here? Why me?"  
"Aouch, you _do_ know how to pick tricky questions, don't you?" Aiwë said in a deep sigh. "Alright, you're here to fulfill a mission. I don't know what kind of mission, but I know it's big enough for the Valar to make me travel into your world. And you're definitely _not_ allowed to go home before it's done."

Though she had guessed it right away, Harley felt a pinch in her heart at the words. Knowing it is one thing, but actually hearing it? It made it more real, somehow.

Aiwë mumbled in her non-existent beard for a moment, then pursued:

"And why you? Well, you _do_ meet the standards the Valar have for a good dimension-traveler. Plus, we've been watching you for some time now, and we all agreed that you needed a break from all the shit you were gettin'."

Harley was frowning so much that it hurt between her eyebrows, however, she did not care about it.

"Wait, you guys _actually_ thought that sending me away from my family in some feudal magical land was the solution to my problems?" Her voice wasn't filled with anger, only genuine astonishment, and disbelief. "_Really_?"  
"Well, I did say that you also matched the profile and that the mission was kinda urgent, so, _yeah_," Aiwë blushed a bit saying so.  
"What's the type of people you're looking for? 'Cause your choice was crappy: I know nearly nothing about this world, and my chances of survival are close to an Absolute Zero."  
"Good of heart, terribly curious and able to learn how to blend in, excellent with foreign languages, proud and bold enough to take action… Oh, and there's also the matter of your blood of course," Aiwë listed in an even tone, counting on her fingers that weren't occupied in the green locks.

Harley blinked. The description could match millions of people with much better knowledge of Middle Earth, but she assumed Aiwë was well aware of that. Therefore, only the last point truly intrigued her.

"My blood?"  
"Oh yeah, you were never 100% human," she dropped without missing a beat.

Harley's jaw relaxed in astonishment as she watched, eyes so wide that they looked the ones in a cartoon, Aiwë finishing the last tress in a little humming.

_I beg your bloody pardon?_ Not entirely human? Where did that absurdity come from? Harley was pretty sure her ears were perfectly small and round _last week_. Last time she checked, her senses couldn't hear the flight of a _damn_ _pigeon_ from miles away nor could she tell what kind of trees surrounded her by fucking _smelling_ them.

Not human? _Yeah, and my ass's made of chicken._

"I'm kinda sure I'm not half-leprechaun or mermaidish, thank you very much. Now, cut the crap and tell me the truth."  
"'Course, you're not a leprechaun or a mermaid, though you'd look cute with a green fishtail," Aiwë mused as she aimed for Harley's backpack. "You're part elvish, or else the metamorphosis wouldn't have worked. It's an old, _super_ old root, maybe from five or more generations ago, but you've elvish blood in your veins."

The Maia girl was enouncing that like it was absolutely nothing, just a piece of normal information, like the current weather or something.

However, in Harley's head, the world was close to an ending.

She had elvish blood, she had elvish DNA. It was easy to deduce the rest from that: the transformation wasn't _completely_ part of the spell that brought her here. It was also from her old genes which woke up and adapted to their new environment – to a _magical_ environment. This meant that, somehow, elves – and probably more creatures – came from Middle Earth in her world, lived there for years and had children.

Which meant she had high chances to stay in Middle Earth long enough to settle down and maybe give birth.

That was terrifying.

"I suppose I can't jump out the window again?"  
"No, Harley, you can't."

What the actual bloody Hell? She was partly a goddamn _elf_ that came from another world with magical swords, dwarves and merry little people with giant feet!

Fuck. Fuck fuckity fuck, that was _so_ fucking fucked up.

"You know, if you hadn't had the slightest bit of magical blood in your system, you would've died during the journey," Aiwë dropped without a sweat. _Again_.  
"I would have _what_?" Harley screeched in utter horror.  
"What, like you thought traveling through spaces was _safe_?" Aiwë tilted her head a little, a confused look on her face. "Eh, you look pale. How are you feeling?"  
"_Spectacular_."

Harley took a minute to mentally sum up everything she had learned: firstly, there were _many_ gods and angels down there, and they were _actively_ meddling with the world; secondly, she had been brought here to fulfill a mission she had no information about; thirdly, she had some elvish DNA and elves among her ancestors; finally, she could have _died_ at least once since last week because of a space-time travel she didn't even intend to make.

This was absolutely _wonderful_.

Aiwë, apparently not aware of the mental breakdown of her counterpart, rubbed her index and her thumb together until they crackled in deep blue sparks.

She held Harley's phone in the air and traced a circle with her sparky finger before the screen. She drew an enneagram, set with alchemic and elvish symbols, that floated magically in sapphire energy. She pressed her bare palm against the drawing and pushed it towards the device while chanting some spell.

A bluish-white aura sphered the phone like a bubble of pure magical energy, then popped in fading sparkles.

"There, perfect!" Aiwë smiled while giving Harley her device back.  
"What did you do?"  
"I performed a protecting spell, mixed with an energizing chant and a time-guarding magic circle," Aiwë explained with great joy.  
"Meaning?"  
"_Meaning_ it's gonna be unbreakable in any way – yes, it's waterproofed now – and it won't lose its power. Like, never. Oh, and it's gonna last forever too, won't get affected by time or whatever."

Harley blinked slowly and her eyes shimmered with tears again. Deep in her chest, her heart squeezed and throbbed hard against her ribcage. She bit her lip, determined not to cry again on the same day, and threw her arms around Aiwë.

Confused but glad, the blue-haired Maia let out a soft chuckle a patted her head tenderly.

"Thank you," the Norman muttered under her breath.  
"Sweetheart, I'm glad it makes you happy, but I did this mostly for me," Aiwë laughed as she broke the embrace. "I needed a way to contact you without going away from Earth, my mission here isn't over yet."  
"You're gonna send another girl?"  
"Most likely, yes. But you won't meet her, she's gonna be your successor, not your partner."

Harley sighed. Of course, it would have been too easy otherwise.

**o0o  
**_I'm sending a message  
__Of feathers and bone  
__Just let me know I'm not forgotten  
__Out here alone  
_**o0o**

Harley did not expect anyone to be waiting for her outside her room. And she most certainly was not expecting some members of the royalty present in Imladris to be there.

She blinked slowly, her body frozen in the open gateway, as the bloody Prince of Greenwood the Great turned slowly to her, cutting short his conversation with Lord Elrond and Tall Merry Man – she should probably ask for his name at some point. Harley took a moment to appreciate how the shadow of a column darkened his left eye.

"Were you guys eavesdropping?" She blurted out with a very confused face.

Then, Tall Merry Man moved slightly, revealing an elven lady of all beauty who was hidden behind his back.

She had long, pearl blonde hair that waved down her thighs, streaming down her thin and graceful arms like golden spider-silk. Her complexion was light but fair, perfectly spotless, similar to a marble statue. When their eyes met, Harley discovered a new and pale shade of silver-blue that seemed to shine of its own pure light. And, damn, those light pink rosebud lips were the most adorable ones she'd seen – especially on such a beauty.

"Whoa, you guys _need_ to tell what's in your food," she whispered in awe.  
"I believe there is no magical ingredient added to our plates," Tall Merry Man grinned widely. "And we were also naught listening to your private exchanges, _wen_ Celfinnil."  
"However, we did come to ask you some questions concerning the visitor you were exchanging with," Lord Elrond said calmly.  
"Oh, you mean Aiwë? Don't worry, it's nothing."

They frowned a bit like they were expecting more from her explanations, and she suddenly remembered that they thought she had the power to send her back home.

"_Wen _Celfinnil, I understand that your realm and ours must be rather… different," Prince Thranduil began to say with a hesitant tone. "Nevertheless, you must realize that it is quite unusual for a Messenger of the Valar to walk down our lands for 'nothing'."  
"Eh, actually, she was there 'cause I jumped out the window."  
"I beg your pardon?"

Harley blinked and almost let out a soft chuckle – Thranduil had sounded _so_ bourgeois, it reminded her of Loki against Hela in _Thor: Ragnarök_.

They all wore shocked faces and Lord Elrond came quickly close to her; his eyes began to search for any apparent injury. Harley raised both her eyebrows in surprise but let him scan her whole being, before sarcastically waving her hands.

"Thanks for the concern, but I'm _fine_, look!" She did two squats and side lounges – and mentally took note that she needed a workout. "She saved me before I got hurt!"  
"Would you please enlighten us with the reason why would you do such a reckless thing?" Lord Elrond hissed in displeasure.  
"Well, since I got here by nearly dying in an accident, I assumed that I'd try to the journey back like this as well! Obviously, it didn't work."  
"Let us forget your absolute impulsive idiocy, shall we?" Tall Merry Man sighed while pinching his nose. "Did you learn anything useful from her?"  
"And I thought you were the funniest," Harley mumbled, crossing her arms on her chest. "She told me she was a Maia and that I wasn't allowed to get home before my mission for the Valar isn't over, happy now?"

Far from being happy, they seemed actually quite flabbergasted by her revelations.

Although they were not usually models of tanning, their complexion lost all its life as their eyes widened in an almost comical way. Harley wasn't completely sure about it, but it looked like the elven lady and Lord Elrond stopped breathing for a moment. Prince Thranduil's mouth was lightly opened and formed silent small words as his eyebrows seemed to try touching the roots of his hair.

Great Gods, if _those_ were faces they made with this news, how would they react when they will learn about Harley having elvish ancestors?

A sudden idea popped in her mind and her lips folded into a smirk.

"Hold the position, guys!" She blurted before brandishing her phone and quickly opening the photography app. "Perfect! First memory of Middle Earth!"

The photo had enough light thank the ogive windows of the hallway and the lens of the camera captured perfectly the surprised looks on their faces. She laughed happily as she zoomed on Tall Merry Man's eyes – they looked like Dobby's. Aaah, priceless.

"What is this… _thing_?"

Harley shot a joyful stare towards the very guy she had been chuckling on and locked her phone before showing it to the elves.

"This _device_ is called a cellphone, or just a phone for shorter. It comes from my world, and it's super useful – it can do tons of things! It was in my bag. Oh, by the way," she smiled as she turned to face Lord Elrond. "Thank you _so much_, Haloisi told me you asked him to bring me back my things."

He nodded slightly and his lips formed a very thin smile. Behind him, the elven lady moved, her eyes sparkling with curiosity towards the 'phone'.

"What can it accomplish, _wen_ Celfinnil?" She asked in the most gentle, soft and vanilla-like voice Harley had ever heard.  
"Darling, I'm tellin' you: staying silent in the back when you have the voice and the face of an actual light fairy is _not_ fair for commoners like me," Harley whispered, admiration slipping through her words like honey. "Who are your parents? I gotta thank them for your existence."

The elven lady giggled; her cheeks took a light shade of pink that was so bloody cute Harley wondered how the males around them were able to hold up the urge to hug her and cover her up with golden trinkets and jewels.

"_Wen_ Celfinnil," smirked Tall Merry Man, "may I introduce you to Lady Celebrian of Nenuial, daughter of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn."  
"Dude, if _that's_ the daughter, I'm gonna _die_ if I face the mother. Anyway," she slapped her own cheek lightly to snap out of Celebrian's enchanting view and reconnect with reality. "As I said, it can do tons of things. It can play music, take photos… Err, they're like… Very detailed little paintings? Without paint? It's easier if I just show you, I think."

Harley walked down the hallway towards a window that had an especially beautiful view of the river down the valley. She took a picture of the dark green forest full of life and admired the result for a moment, glad that she would have a memory to show to her brother once she got back home.

With a wide grin, she showed the photo to the elves, who examined it with curious – and slightly worried – eyes.

"We use it to collect memories, we can also print them and display them in our rooms. Printing is like, err… using a machine to write books, only a lot faster though. The first printer was invented in a neighboring country five centuries ago. It's super useful!"  
"Your realm seems to be… quite astonishing," Lord Elrond simply said. "Does everyone wear such… odd attires as well?"

Harley blinked in surprise, for she had entirely forgotten what she was wearing.

After Aiwë's departure, she had taken a moment to analyze and list down everything she owned. While she had been in a hurry, back home, she had been smart enough to pack useful items: some underwear, a pair of jeans, something like five shirts and pajama shorts. She had cried a little when she found David's old rugby shirt, the one she used as nightwear.

Unfortunately, there were no period pads – except for some tampons she always had in her bag's front pocket for emergencies – or hair products for dyed hair.

After some time filled with nostalgia and a tin of despair, she decided to change into her world's clothes, mostly because she felt uneasy in long elvish dresses. She now wore dark shredded pants, a black _Queen_ shirt tucked in her jeans – as bi culture required – and all the elastics and bracelets she could find in her bag. Her hair, filled with small messy braids from Aiwë, was tied up in a ponytail, exposing her ears and piercings.

To her great displeasure, her trainers had been taken away by the elves after her arrival, so she was still wearing grey ballet flats – and they smelled terrible.

"You'd be surprised, my Lord, by all the weird 'attires' you can see in my world," she smiled joyfully. "My clothes are simple compared to some of my friends', you know."

And that was true: some years ago, she met a girl named Sophia that quotidianly dressed as a gothic Lolita. She was as sweet as a girl could be, and the most generous living being she had ever encountered.

However, it was understandable for the elves to be a little bit shocked by her sense of fashion. They seemed to be still stuck in the 'ankles are deadly sexy and sinful, hide them, woman!' era. And given that Harley's legs were tightened in a high-waist slim-jean and a shirt with sleeves so short it looked like a tank top, yes, she was _a tiny bit_ provocative.

"I'm not comfortable in dresses, sorry," she frowned her lips saying so. "And it feels, you know… like home."  
"Do not fret, _wen_ Celfinnil," Lady Celebrian murmured with a smile that made her eyes shine with kindness. "You look lovely, it is absolutely normal that you wish to wear gowns from your homeland. Perhaps you could tell us more about your realm while we are sustaining?"

Food? She meant food, didn't she? Harley's eyes glimmered with envy and a smile full of hunger, like a predator's, appeared on her face.

"Where's the lunchroom?"

As soon as Tall Merry Man pointed left in the hallway, Harley sprinted through the corridors, faster than an ostrich. Her nose caught the smell of warm dishes and fruity desserts and she fastened, completely unaware of outraged or amused elves she'd crossed path with.

It had been such a long time since she last ate, her mouth watered at the mere idea of munching into something.

"FOOD!" She exalted, her fists high in the air, forming the V of Victory, and a radiant smile on her lips, as she stepped into a dining room full of startled maids who were installing plates and silverware on long tables of light wood.  
"Ma'am, the tables aren't ready, please wait ou'side," she heard a rough voice say in an amused tone beside her.

Harley's ear flinched at the accent that articulated words even more _terribly_ than hers.

It came from an elvish maid who was inches smaller than the others, almost as tiny as Harley herself – though her 5'8" were tall as a human, it was quite small as an elf. Her hair was of dark chestnut, filled with natural ginger and blonde strokes, and twisted in a fishtail braid that was laying on her shoulder. Her eyes were weird but beautiful: they oscillated between green, grey and yellow, and had tiny hints of pumpkin orange close to the pupil.

However, the strangest fact about this maid was that she was the first elf she'd met who had moles and freckles, like her.

"You aren't a normal elf, are you?" Harley shamelessly blurted out.  
"Nay, m'lady," grinned the maid. "But now's not time for bed stories, we're preparin' the room for the meal, you're gonna bother us, ma'am."  
"I'll go, no problem. But tell me what's your name first, please."  
"Alyúra, m'lady."

Harley smiled softly and nodded, sincerely intrigued by the maid with the rough peasant accent.

Outside were waiting the elves she had abandoned in the hallway on her room, but also the High King Gîl-Galad, King Oropher, and several others that she did not acknowledge out of pure laziness. She stared at the wall for a second, pondering if she had to show them her respects or not, considering she was somehow under their wing.

She remembered Haloisi saying that it was knights from Gîl-Galad's troupes who saved her, and she had a vague memory of an elf saying she was his responsibility during her escape at her first awakening.

On the other hand, he was surrounded by people that seemed super important and it looked like their conversation – in elvish, of course – was extremely serious.

For once, she voted on the idea of being a coward. She'd say 'hi' to him another time.

"I must say, _wen_ Celfinnil," a well-known voice giggled behind her shoulder, "never have I seen a person in such a hurry to feed themselves."  
"I'm so hungry, dude, I could gobble up an entire castle of veggies," she laughed while turning to face Tall Merry Man.  
"Veggies?"  
"Vegetables. Eh, not to be rude or anything, but what's your name? You never said it, and Haloisi didn't talk 'bout you either."  
"I shall not whelve it from thee any longer, then," he grinned with the Mighty 10.000 Watts Colgate Smile, which made Harley blink in surprise. "My name is Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower."

_Shit_, she thought as her eyes widened. Another Lord. Were there only Lords, Ladies, Princes, and Kings around here?

Thereafter, a revelation popped in her mind like a bubble of soap and she let out a soft giggle that soon turned into a burst of loud, lungs-out laughter. Completely lost in her hilarity, she took a step back and held on her ribs with an arm, shouting her profound merriment in brutal, noisy and far from being lady-like cackling.

"Oh my, oh my," she coughed as she was trying to breathe normally again, her cheeks red with joy and her eyes sparkling. "Tell me, Lord Glorfindel, do you hair _gleam and glow_? If you were to cut a stroke from them, would they turn brown and powerless? Do they heal injuries and protect from aging when you sing?"

The man – the elf – was a living version not of sunshine, but of Princess Rapunzel herself. Ah, Great Gods, she had found a Flower Gleam and Glow Man!

"Aaah, folktales, folktales, they really are sources of pure laughter, aren't they?" She finally calmed down, completely unaware of the silence she had provoked in the hallway. "Anyway, I'm sorry 'bout this, but that was one Hell of an inside joke, dude!"

Her shoulders were still shaking from soft giggling breaths when a manservant came to announce them that the meal was ready to be served.

Now was her time to shine with the most graceful attitude she could.

Harley, who had been a good Literary student back in high school, knew some rules of the feudal system – especially when it came to dining rules since there were so many banquets in middle-age literature. She held tight on Glorfindel's arm as they walked in the dining room and patiently waited for him to pull out her chair from the table. 'Grateful', she bowed slightly at him, then sat at the same as everyone else and waited for the 'dig-into-the-dishes' signal.

However, at the very moment things started to get moving, she did not waste any time on curtesy and almost stole a dish of roasted potatoes from Glorfindel's hands.

"My Lady seems to have quite the appetite," he grinned genuinely.  
"I warned you, I'm hungry," she retorted between two mouthfuls.

Even though she ate eagerly and a little too fast for a proper lady, she nevertheless forced herself to eat as cleanly and silently as possible.

To her great pleasure, conversations started to sprout here and there, mostly in elvish, but she was able to catch some exchanges in Common Tongue – as they all called it. The roofless room allowed sunlight to warm her skin up and she took a moment to appreciate the music from an elven harpist.

Everything was peaceful, and the food was a true delight. She inspired a small breath and appreciated the fact that she was able to perceive the smell from pine trees down the valley. Above the sounds of the dining room, she could hear birds chirping and the river.

It was at that precise moment that she heard it.

"Yes, I believe I am to leave in a short time, and I am most likely to take _wen_ Celfinnil with me in Lindon."

Harley, who was slowly drinking some berry juice from her silver, choked loudly and started to cough her lungs out.

In order to breathe again, she had to spit all the liquid in her mouth on the floor and on her fingers that were before her lips. Her other hand was pushing down her burning ribcage and grasped on her shirt and skin with force. Someone was gracefully drawing circles on her back while the cough pursued in a horrible noise that sounded like a dying bugle.

"Could someone please bring her a cup of water?" She heard Lord Glorfindel say from a distance.

_Shit_, she had not planned to die from choking on berry juice in a parallel world while having lunch with elves.

The hand on her back disappeared, replaced by a much smaller and colder one that gripped her shoulder with force. The person made her raise her face and shoved another silver cup, filled with fresh and clear water, to her lips. She drank it thankfully.

"Thank you," she croaked in a very crow-like voice.  
"Yer welcome, ma'am."

It was Alyúra. Harley raised her eyes to meet the maid's and offered her an amused and grateful smile. The maid smiled back, but she had to move away from her quickly – she had to clean up Harley's mess.

"Oh, darn, I'm sorry, let me help you!"  
"Nay, m'lady, that's me job, thank yah though," she retorted.

Harley frowned in displeasure but nodded. She still put aside a few pastries in a plate to give to the maid later, though.

Then, she faced the High King Gîl-Galad, confusion and slight disgruntlement frowning her lips downward. Her eyes glimmered with questions as she sat again on her chair, facing Celebrian – but her stare still darted on the King.

"Excuse me, but I heard what you said: I'm leaving with you? And, soon?" She asked, astonishment surprisingly clear in her words.  
"Aye."  
"'Kay, with all due respect, I have questions and the first one is: why should I follow you to your… err, Lindon-land or something?"

Gïl-Galad offered her a bright smile and bite down his raspberry pastry without a word. Her eyebrow twitched, but she understood the message underlying: _later, brat, I'm currently eating here_.

**o0o  
**_The air is cold  
__The night is long  
__I feel like I might fade into the dawn  
__Fade until I'm gone  
_**o0o**

After a day full of wandering through Imladris, of lonely walks down the gardens and a short moment of admiration when she discovered a hidden passage leading to the waterfall behind her room, Harley was observing the eventide from a window in the hallway in which Elrond library was.

She had to admit at least one positive thing about this world: everything was breathtaking. Pollution didn't hit nature and its wonders, in Middle Earth, and all had been kept in its most natural form.

The sun was warm, however not burning hot from the global warming effects. The river's water was crystal clear, filled with life and she had felt like something was missing from it until she realized that there were no plastic bags, no trash anywhere in it. The trees were healthy, strong and thick of shell, and the animals were not afraid of the elves.

The wind didn't smell like car gas or piss, there were no grey and thick clouds in the sky from industries' chimneys, no honk noises or loud voices.

"It's almost like I'm back in the Alps with Maman and Papa," she whispered as she closed her eyelids to savor the breeze on her face.  
"Where is this place you are talking about?"

Harley remained silent, startled by the fact that she didn't feel nor hear him approach her – and he was close, bend over another window at her left, mimicking her position. She hoped he couldn't her heart racing in her chest with surprise.

"It's – it's a mountain chain in the South-East of my country," she finally mumbled, then she cleared her throat. "We share it with two other countries: Swiss from the North, and Italia from the South. It has the highest peak in Europe, the Mont Blanc – it means the White Mountain. It's something like 15.800 feet tall from above the sea."

It felt incredibly good to speak about her land and her culture.

She told him about the winter sports you could practice in those mountains, she giggled at the souvenir of David tasting hot wine for the first time, and she spoke of the magnificence of the summer sunsets behind the mounts.

And the High King stayed silent all along, listening to her memories, smiling slightly whenever she let out a small laugh.

When she finally stopped talking, a peaceful calm had set over them. They stared in wonder as the sun bathed the whole valley in burning reflections and the river seemed to glimmer in gold. A flock of little birds flew through the sky, black small dots in the eventide.

"You are to come with me in Lindon, in the West, behind the Blue Mountains," Gîl-Galad muttered as a single tear rolled down Harley's cheek. "There, you will take the official title of the Ward of the King and become part of my people."

Her throat tightened as the feeling she had been holding up for hours streamed down her body with a cold sweat and a heartache.

She was not going back home until a long, very long time, was she?

**o0o  
**_Oh  
__I'm so far from home_


End file.
